Always Second Best
by Mai Ascot
Summary: AU; When two very different boys go to Hogwarts, nobody would think that they were twins. Charlus Potter is the spoiled Gryffindor BWL raised by his parents, and Harry Potter is a down to earth Ravenclaw, raised by Death. Wrong BWL, Full Summary Inside.
1. Chapter 1

**Always Second Best**

Summary: On Halloween ten years ago, Lily and James Potter were away at an Order of the Phoenix meeting, and Voldemort entered their little house in Godric's Hollow with one intention: to kill the Chosen one. But when he fired the killing curse at Harry Potter, he shot back the spell. Dumbledore got to the house before anyone else, and thinking that Charlus, Harry's twin, is the BWL, gives Death payment for letting him live so long in the form of Harry, thinking he is giving her the unimportant twin, when he is giving her the more important one. Ten Years Later, what will happen when both twins go to Hogwarts?

Disclaimer: I am pretty sure I am not JK Rowling, because if I was I would be able to say I owned the awesomeness that is: Harry Potter.

I will try and do as little bashing as possible but there WILL be Dumbledore and Ron and James and Charlus bashing. That's all. Honest *crosses fingers behind back*.

**Chapter One**

**Godric's Hollow, Halloween, '81**

'Thank you so much Peter, I can't tell you how stir crazy James has been getting being cooped up inside all the time, hopefully he'll stop trying to do DIY without magic. Last time it wasn't pretty...' Lily trailed off remembering her husband's last attempt at making a new garden shed. It had taken about fifty spells to clear up the garden and stop James yelling about how much his thumb hurt and how ridiculous the design for a muggle hammer was.

Peter smiled wanly, his heart not really in it. Could he really stand by and let the Dark Lord kill one of his best friends children? He'd have to, Peter decided, his life was on the line. And anyway, Lily and James could have more kids. 'You just have a nice time, you deserve it. Looking after two little ones can't be easy.'

Lily then unexpectedly hugged him, and Peter wondered idly if this would be the last time that Lily ever showed such compassion towards him, or as James and Sirius like to call _his type, _Death Eater Scum. 'Honestly Pete, you're such a lifesaver.' she said just as James walked through the door.

'Couldn't agree more, Dumbledore said this meeting's important. I'll show it in a Pensieve later, kay?' said James, clapping his hand onto Peter's shoulder and unconsciously making the minor _Death Eater Scum _feel even worse than he already did. Did they know? Were they saying all these nice things to make him feel _that bad _as revenge? No, if they knew, James would be ripping his head off, and Sirius and Remus would help. Unless Lily got hold of him... Peter gulped at the horrifying thought.

'Anyways... ladies' first, my dear.' Lily gave James a sarcastic look and said in a loud voice to the fireplace 'Twelve Grimmauld Place, London.' and promptly disappeared in a burst of green fire. James shot one last smile at Peter and then followed his wife through the hearth.

_Forgive me, _he thought sadly and silently behind his friend's departure.

But he knew they never would.

**-(.)-**

Tom Marvalo Riddle, more widely known as Lord Voldemort, was having a good day.

His idiot servant Wormtail had _finally, _after many _crucios _given in and told him where the Potters lived.

It had been most annoying, Wormtail had tried so very hard to hide it from him.

He had taught himself quite strong occlumency, and concentrated it all on that one detail. He had tried running away, which failed. He had even attempted to _obliviate _himself.

It was quite impressive, his so called _loyalty _to his friends. But one powerful _crucio _was all it took in the end.

Now, Voldemort was making his way to Godric's Hollow, cloak masking his true intentions, wand in hand.

Honestly, muggles could accept anything if it was on Halloween.

He stopped, and looked at the little house, right in the centre of that godforsaken _Gryffindor's _home town. But, it was so very Potter to stay true to his Sorting, even after he left Hogwarts. But, Voldemort smiled a thin smile, so had he.

He could feel the wards pulsing around it, strong, he noted.

But not strong enough.

Lord Voldemort walked right into the Potters home, setting off several alarms he was sure. But the pathetic Order of fried chicken wouldn't get to the little Tudor house for a few minutes, and that was all it would take.

'Wormtail!' his hard voice got the rat of a man scurrying out to kneel at his feet.

'Y- yes, m- my Lord?'Wormtail stuttered, his arms shaking.

'Run, run little rat. And never return.' Voldemort intoned, and before Wormtail had time to figure out what he had just said, he banished him to Australia.

Hopefully he'd break a few bones on the way.

Black cloak billowing, he made his way up the staircase, noticing details like two toy brooms in the corner, a trickle of blood on the white carpet.

He approached a white door, with animal letters spelling 'TWINS' on the front of it, and rolled his eyes at the giraffe 'I' and the lion 'N' cowering away from him, and the snake 'S' hissing at him, enchanted with probably the same magic paintings were.

For dramatic emphasis, he blasted the door off the nursery to be met with two cribs.

The first crib had a chubby, red headed baby with hazel eyes, bawling said eyes out. On the bedstead, engraved was the name 'Charlus Sirius Potter'. The second baby was a good deal quieter, and that Voldemort was thankful for.

He was extraordinarily lean for a baby, no puppy fat in sight. On his head he had messy black hair and shockingly green eyes, the colour of the _Avada Kedavra_. He found himself imagining James Potter as a baby, and comparing him to the quiet child. Or 'Harry James Potter' as the bedstead read.

'Harry James Potter' now sat up, and silently looked at the man intruding his home, no fear in his eyes. More, a calculating look, and Voldemort felt as if those green eyes were looking into his very soul.

Voldemort levelled his wand towards Harry's head, and was shocked when the infant bowed his head forward, welcoming death, ready for it. The child seemed to be looking behind him, at something that wasn't there.

'Your bravery shall never be forgotten.' he promised, feeling compelled to show this one year old some recognition. He may have imagined it, but he thought he saw a small smile on the child's face. He couldn't be sure though.

'_Avada Kedavra_.' the hissed green spell shot towards the quiet infant, Charlus not knowing the magnitude of the situation continued bawling .

But then, just as the curse hit Harry James Potter on the forehead, a green light shot towards the spell caster, and Tom Marvalo Riddle, more commonly known as Lord Voldemort, could do nothing to stop it.

**-(.)-**

Dumbledore was the first to the destroyed home of the Potters. The roof was collapsed, and a few small fires had started. Later, people would wonder where Peter Pettigrew was, and they would eventually find his dead body in the middle of Australia.

But nobody was thinking of the unfortunate babysitter at that moment.

Dumbledore rushed inside, desperate to get to the twins before anyone else. He _needed _time.

They were both in the nursery, Charlus was crying fat tears going down his cheeks. Harry was quiet, asleep as if oblivious to what had just happened.

Of course, he wasn't.

It was he who had defeated Voldemort. It was he who had the lightning bolt scar on his forehead. It was he who was magically exhausted.

But Dumbledore didn't check for any of these things.

He saw an asleep baby and a crying baby. He saw a bloody X scar above Charlus Potter's heart (from falling debris). He did not see a lightning bolt scar on Harry Potter's forehead. He did not check the room for magical cores.

If he had he would've seen Charlus had a very small core, and Harry's was much bigger, even though he was magically exhausted.

If he had he would've sensed that Charlus had a very ordinary cut, and Harry's was full of dark magic.

But he did not.

And that was Albus Wulfric Brian Dumbledore's first mistake.

**-(.)-**

Death had watched the entire thing, as she had gotten a tip off from Prophecy (when he was actually speaking sense) that something _very very bad _would happen at Godric's Hollow, Halloween 1981.

Also annoyingly, Prophecy was right. Death liked rubbing Prophecy's face in it if he was wrong, which there was usually a 50/50 chance of.

She had watched the attack.

She had seen the death of Peter Pettigrew.

She had watched to green light seeping towards Harry James Potter.

She had smiled at the little boy, trying to comfort him in death.

She saw the spell rebound.

She saw the debris fall on Charlus Potter's chest.

She saw little Harry Potter collapse from exhaustion.

She felt his magical core.

She scoffed at Charlus Potter's pitiful magic ability.

She, and she alone, was the only witness other than Tom Riddle to that fateful night in Godric's Hollow.

She saw Albus Wulfric Brian Dumbledore rush to the scene, ignoring some important facts, coming to the wrong conclusion.

She remembered what he owed her.

Death made herself known.

**-(.)-**

Albus Dumbledore was relaxing, slowly.

He picked up the wand of Tom Riddle, he saw the ashes surrounding it.

Charlus Potter was the Boy Who Lived, and would defeat Voldemort a second time when he was older.

Harry would be a small problem, but he would soon find a way to dispose of him, all for the Greater Good of course.

But then he noticed.

That the clocks had stopped ticking.

Charlus had stopped crying, mid sob.

Dumbledore spun round, and saw _her._

'My dear, what can I do for you?' it took all of his willpower not to abandon his Grandfatherly facade, and stop his eyes twinkling, and kneel at Death's feet.

'You know what I want. You debt is due.' Albus gulped, and the twinkle in his eyes lessened considerably.

'Will a child do?' he asked, almost hesitantly.

'You are a coward Albus Dumbledore.' she stated 'But you are by no means an idiot. A life is a life.' she drifted forward towards the cribs, and Albus bit his tongue so hard it started bleeding . _Not Charlus. Not Charlus. We __**need **__Charlus._

But Death chose the younger, smaller twin. Harry James Potter was swept into her arms, and she made an awkward cradle with her arms. She smiled down at the sleeping infant, but when she looked up at Dumbledore, her face was full of contempt once more.

'I will see you in a little less than twenty years. This is my final payment.' Death walked into the shadows leaving the shaking headmaster thinking of her hollow eyes.

The clocks began ticking once again.

**-(.)-**

James and Lily Potter were frantic.

Were both their babies okay?

Was either of them hurt?

Was one of them the Chosen One?

They smashed into their broken home, and ran upstairs as fast as they could. To the nursery.

When they entered they saw a shaking headmaster, and a bawling child. The roof had fallen in and a black cloak and some ashes were in the middle of the floor.

Acting on instinct, Lily swooped on her crying baby. James started searching frantically for his other child.

'Albus. Where's Harry...' James voice was hoarse.

Albus Wulfric Brian Dumbledore braced himself to tell two parents that one of their children was the Boy Who Lived, and the other was dead. And no, they couldn't see his body, it was too mangled, it would just upset them more.

It wasn't like he hadn't done it before.

**...**

Hope you liked it! Read and Review! That little blue button down there! :)

I'll update when I can!


	2. Chapter 2

**Always Second Best**

Summary: On Halloween ten years ago, Lily and James Potter were away at an Order of the Phoenix meeting, and Voldemort entered their little house in Godric's Hollow with one intention: to kill the Chosen one. But when he fired the killing curse at Harry Potter, he shot back the spell. Dumbledore got to the house before anyone else, and thinking that Charlus, Harry's twin, is the BWL, gives Death payment for letting him live so long in the form of Harry, thinking he is giving her the unimportant twin, when he is giving her the more important one. Ten Years Later, what will happen when both twins go to Hogwarts?

Disclaimer: I can swear to you on my life that my name is not JK Rowling, and I do not own Harry Potter.

I will try and do as little bashing as possible but there WILL be Dumbledore and Ron and James and Charlus bashing. That's all. Honest *crosses fingers behind back*.Neglect but NO abuse.

A/N Yes, I went on a weekend break with my laptop where there is *deep breath* NO WIFI! So chapters 2-4 were written there, and Chapter 4 is proudly the longest Chapter I have ever written! :) Hope you like them!

**Chapter Two **

**Ten Years Later - The Potter's**

In Godric's Hollow, not much showed that ten years had passed.

The grass was maybe a little greener, and the tiles on the before destroyed roof of Number 13 looked a little newer. But Godric's Hollow was more famous than it had ever been before, as famous as it had been when Gryffindor himself lived there. Because now, over a thousand years after Gryffindor had died, the VIP who resided in Godric's Hollow was Charlus Sirius Potter.

Every wizard, witch, muggleborn, pureblood, squib and half-blood knew his name. Because Charlus was the Boy-Who-Lived.

Everyone knew the story of ten years ago, how You-Know-Who came to Godric's Hollow on All Hallows Eve, and banished the Death Eater Wormtail (as he was now known, it sounded much more evil compared to "Peter Pettigrew") to Australia, killing him in the process.

How he came into the nursery of the twin Potter boys, and cast the _Avada Kevada _at Charlus and his brother Harry. How he had shot the evil spell back at You-Know-Who and killed him. Harry tragically died in the attack, but Charlus lived and was the first and only person to survive the killing curse to date, and as a one year old baby too!

As Rubeus Hagrid would've put it, had he known the truth: Codswallop.

But the great wizarding public didn't know that, and Charlus Sirius Potter was fawned upon as if he was God's gift to the human race. And, eventually, due to for as long as he could remember being treated this way, he began to believe it as well.

So it was no surprise that when Charlus got his Hogwarts letter he was subject to national rejoicing (again), and parents who had children in his year were preaching them to be nice to him, and try to be good, and _never _be mean to him. Try to get his autograph if you can, and if you can become friends with him, even better! Because Charlus Potter is sure to be a very influential man when he grows up and he would be a good friend to have.

So in the Potter's own home, it was obviously going to be so much worse.

Lily and James Potter were still good people. They stuck with Lily's Christian beliefs and went to Church every Sunday. They loved all their children.

But not exactly... fairly.

Rose Lily Potter was a beautiful little girl of nine-almost-ten, with ebony black hair and startlingly green eyes, she shared her "dead" brother's looks, and her mother's brains. Alec Remus Potter was six years old and had dark brown hair and hazel eyes, with his mother's features and his father's love of Quidditch.

They were happy children, but it was times like the 1st of July, 1991 that they were reminded that Charlus was always better than them, and whatever they did they could never, and would never compare to the Boy-Who-Lived. Or, in private, they called him the Boy-Who-Unfortunately-Lived, but if they were ever overheard they would've gotten a sharp slap.

'Bu' you kno' what'll 'appen if we go down dere!' Alec Potter complained to his sister as he was dragged down the stairs to the kitchen.

'We need breakfast! It's the most important meal of the day, remember? If he gets too loud we can sneak some food up to my room, now come on! Or are you a scaredy cat?' Rose hissed to Alec as they rounded into the Potter's kitchen.

'I'm no scaredy cat!' Alec huffed, and as if to prove it he strutted into the kitchen on his tiptoes for all of five seconds before dropping down to his normal height.

They then proceeded to grab some bacon and eggs sit down quietly at the table. James was immersed in his paper and Lily was immersed in "proof reading" Charlus's fanmail, in case there was anything nasty in there that might her special little boy (a nickname that hurt Alec's feelings when he heard it). So neither of them noticed their two youngest wolfing down their breakfast as if their lives depended on it.

'Muuum!' Charlus's shout from upstairs carried all through the house and down to the kitchen. Immediately Lily jumped up and ran upstairs. Their conversation carried downstairs very clearly.

'What's wrong Char?' (Another awful nickname "just for home" used by the Potter parents for their eldest child.

'Mum! I can't find my Nimbus 2000!'

'Oh dear! _JAMES! WHERE'S CHAR'S BROOM?'_ Lily yelled from the top floor and still managed to hurt the eardrum's of all the Potter's on the bottom floor.

James bellowed back with a higher volume (if that was possible) _'I HAVEN'T TOUCHED IT! WHERE'VE YOU HIDDEN IT?'_ like a normal morning in the Potter household. James often accused Lily of hiding things (especially the butter) and Charlus often lost his broom (insert latest model) and Alec was often scared of Charlus's shouting so Rose had to drag him downstairs (nearly every day).

Except then, the family owl Godric (named after Godric Gryffindor) flew into the kitchen, looking exhausted, with the mail. James didn't seem to notice this and continued yelling to/at Lily (_'WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU HAVEN'T HIDDEN IT? WOMEN HIDE EVERYTHING!'_), so Rose grabbed five stray Knuts that were on the table to pay for the Prophet and jammed them in the owl's pouch.

Godric dropped all the heavy letters thankfully and then flew away from the very loud humans he had to keep coming back to. The younger ones were okay, he thought, but the redheads and the man were enough to hurt anything's ears! He only hoped that the nice young one (Alec) who sometimes gave him bacon could still hear properly.

Rose then proceeded open up the mail, saying quietly under her breath so just Alec could hear 'Bill, Bill, Bill, Prophet, Fanmail for Charlus, Bill, St Mungos Reciept, Bill, Bill-'

'We know a lot of people called Bill don't we?' said Alec in that way of childish innocence that only those of seven and under can pull off at the breakfast table.

Rose smiled and ruffled his hair and made no other reply, but Alec was satisfied and went back to eating his breakfast like nothing had ever happened.

'-Bill, What is tha- oh! Alec, look! It's _Charlus's Hogwarts letter!_' And indeed it was. It was made of thick, creamy paper with green ink making the intricate Hogwarts shield of the four houses. Both children looked at it in awe for some minutes, savouring the letter.

'Do yo' thin' we'll ever get one?' Alec asked, suddenly cowering away from the letter.

Rose turned sharply to look at her younger brother 'Of course we will! What makes you think we won't?' she whisper shouted (oxymoron), not bothered if James heard or not, because he was still shouting and would remain doing so until Charlus found his broom or a miracle happened.

And this was the miracle.

'Charlus said I'm a stupi' littl' squib.' Alec said, voice teary. Rose turned her head towards the staircase and her eyes narrowed into slits. When she was younger, Charlus had done exactly the same thing. To do it to her was one thing; to do it to her little brother was another.

'Don't!' Alec reached out his hand, and at first Rose didn't know what he was talking about. Then she followed his gaze and saw how tightly she had been gripping _Charlus's _Letter. Immediately she dropped it, and the letter flutter down to the ground, topside up so you could see the address:

_**Mr C. Potter**_

_**No. 13 Godric's Hollow**_

_**London**_

_**The Largest Bedroom(/s)**_

Rose smirked inwardly at the last line, that last kick in the gut.

She had often said to her parents that if they had four bedrooms, how come Charlus had the two largest ones? But Lily and James just waved it off and said they just seemed bigger, and Charlus needed more room.

He had one for himself and his Quidditch stuff, and another for his mountains of toys and presents (mostly never opened) that nobody used or needed. Lily and James had their room, and that left Rose one room (because girls need their space! Lily had insisted) and Alec having to take the landing where Lily and James had set up a camp bed.

Rose often found herself bristling at these arrangements, and it was wholly satisfying that she had it down on paper that she was right, not that it would ever make much of a difference.

Alec bent down and carefully picked up the letter, holding it at arm's length as if it were a disease. He looked to his sister and she nodded, James still oblivious because of his shouting.

'Dad.' Alec voice was quiet and drowned out, so Rose decided to help him a little. She stood up and made her way over to their father, who was (guess!) oblivious to all this because he was shouting to Lily to tell Charlus that '_OH YES! I DID MOVE IT TO CHARLUS'S SECOND BEDROOM! SORRY LILY-FLOWER!'_ But as soon as he finished this particular yell to the inhabitants upstairs, a feminine voice shouted in his poor, unsuspecting ear '_DAAAAD!_'

He jumped about a foot in the air.

When he landed he had accomplished three things.

1) He had turned round in his seat.

2) He had knocked his own glasses off.

3) He had given himself a wedgie.

Once James had readjusted his glasses to see his daughter and youngest son, who he wasn't aware had entered the room, Alec took his fingers out _his _poor sensitive ears because he knew just how loud Rose could yell on a bad day.

'Ow, Rose! What'd you do that for?' Rose simply rolled her eyes and pointed to the table, on which was resting Charlus's Hogwarts Letter, in all its cream-and-dark-green glory.

Well, it went downhill from when James's eyes bulged out of his head like they were going to come out (which Rose decided she _definitely _wanted to review in the Pensieve later).

'_LILS! CHAR! CHAR'S HOGWARTS LETTER'S HERE!_' At first Lily was going to shout at James for shouting at her, then she went over what he'd just shouted to her. "Char's Hogwarts Letter's Here!"

Char had obviously heard right the first time, because her redheaded son dropped his Nimbus 2000 and raced downstairs like a stampede was after him. All Lily could think as she quickly followed her redheaded son down the stairs was "_Oh, How quickly they grow up."_

Alec stared at the letter, knowing that it was the last seconds of wholeness it was going to have, and he slowly shook his head in sadness. Another poor object ripped to shreds by the one and only Brat-Who-Lived.

And of course, that was exactly what happened, along with boasting and begging to go to Diagon Alley, and _somebody's _ego getting bigger and bigger.

But when the newspapers later asked Lily and James for a statement of what it was like for Charlus to receive his Hogwarts letter, they had said that they'd all been eating breakfast when the letter came in, and they'd all been very happy for him to receive it, (Quickly adding that of course, that there was no doubt that he _**would **_have received it, but getting it was nice all the same.) especially as on the same day Lily had been offered the post of Muggle Studies Professor and James had been offered the Flying Professor Post. Both of their youngest would be coming to Hogwarts with them and it was going to be a very fun year for everybody.

Well they wouldn't have told them what really happened, would they?

**-(.)-**

So, just to get a few thing straight, here is the timeline:

**July 31****st**** 1980 - **Charlus and Harry are born, Charlus at 11:56pm and Harry at 11:59pm, even though it is recorded as Midnight on August 1st.

**Halloween 1981 - **Charlus and Harry attacked by Voldemort. Harry is BWL but Charlus gets the credit, and Harry is pronounced dead when Death takes him away to clear Dumbledore's debt. Chapter 1 takes place.

**August 9****th**** 1981 - **Rose Lily Potter is born.

**September 2****nd**** 1985 -** Alec Remus Potter is born.

**July 1****st**** 1991 - **Charlus & Harry receive Hogwarts Letters. Chapters 2 & 3.

**July 5****th**** 1991 - **Harry & Potters go to Diagon Alley. Chapter 4.

**September 1****st**** 1991 - **Charlus and Harry go to Hogwarts. Chapter 5.

Hope that helps! Nothing's set in stone but that's my rough plan. REVIEW! ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**Always Second Best**

Summary: On Halloween ten years ago, Lily and James Potter were away at an Order of the Phoenix meeting, and Voldemort entered their little house in Godric's Hollow with one intention: to kill the Chosen one. But when he fired the killing curse at Harry Potter, he shot back the spell. Dumbledore got to the house before anyone else, and thinking that Charlus, Harry's twin, is the BWL, gives Death payment for letting him live so long in the form of Harry, thinking he is giving her the unimportant twin, when he is giving her the more important one. Ten Years Later, what will happen when both twins go to Hogwarts?

Disclaimer: I can swear to you on my life that my name is not JK Rowling, and I do not own Harry Potter.

I will try and do as little bashing as possible but there WILL be Dumbledore and Ron and James and Charlus bashing. That's all. Honest *crosses fingers behind back*.Neglect but NO abuse.

**Chapter 3**

**10 Years Later - Death and Harry**

'Hit me.'

'I fold.'

'You're no fun at cards! Where's the risk?'

'Risk and winning are two different things. I win. You risk. It's the way of the world.'

'You're just scared you're going to lose.'

'Okay then. You going to fold?'

'Never! Hit me.'

'How are you staying under twenty?'

'Damn. I bust.'

'Thought so.'

'Well, what have you got?'

'Twenty one.'

'I hate you.'

'I know.'

It was this lovely exchange that any spirit passing by in the Other world would've heard, but not many would've paid it heed. This was almost a daily occurrence of the two children who played in the Gardens of Death, and many wished them well.

For something particularly special about these two children was that one of them was not dead. For, anyone to cross over to the Other World, you had to be dead usually, and it was a rare occurrence when you saw anybody with a beating heart still firmly in their chest.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

I'll go back to the two children. The dead child was unremarkable, with dirty blonde hair that fell to her waist and washed out brown eyes that may have been chocolate coloured once, she was not as beautiful in death as she had been in life, nobody was, but she was still beautiful if you looked properly.

Her name was Flora Fauna Watts, and she had died in 1996 from an aeroplane crash, in which there were no survivors. She had been going to one of her parent's summer homes alone when one of the plane's wings fell off because the cables holding it had snapped. Flora died young, at only six years old. But when she died, she decided to age until she got as old as she wanted to get, then she could stop (she wouldn't go any farther than twenty five). While she was growing up in the Other World she picked up a tendency, when playing cards, to play to win.

The living child was noticeable, not just in the Land of the Dead. He had shaggy black hair that fell an inch below his ears, and it never seemed to lay flat, and dazzling green eyes that seemed to look through you.

His name was Harry James Potter, and he had been paid to Death by Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore when he was scarcely a year old to let the old codger to live twenty years longer. He knew this, and made no secret of his hate for the man. But, he had decided five years before that the old coot had done him a favour by giving him to Death, because she was the best mother anybody could ever wish to have. And, he would never had met Flora in the Land of the Living, so he was glad he hadn't had to grow up there.

Anyway, Harry reasoned, you had better teachers in the Other World, such as Shakespeare for English, Einstein for Arithmetic and Caesar for Latin, so Harry could never see the appeal of the Land of the Living anyway.

And with this carefree attitude, Harry picked up the habit of never taking the safe option when playing cards against Flora, always going for the risky way and hoping it worked out alright, and his way of life was very similar. Because, when you play cards, it does reflect what kind of a person you are.

For example, whenever Albus Dumbledore played cards, he lied through his teeth to get the cards and results he wanted until he was happy to put his cards down and show them to everyone, pointing out he, and he alone, had won the game, no matter who had helped him by whispering the other person's hand in his ear.

But I'm not here to talk about Albus Dumbledore's terrible attitude of how to play cards, no matter how atrocious.

After Harry sulking about not winning cards for all of five seconds while he inched towards one of the cushions in the outside day-care that was chucked at Flora's head surprisingly five seconds later, sparking a pillow fight in which Harry's tactics were working spectacularly.

'Help! Mer-' Flora's cry for mercy was cut short when a pillow hit her smack in the face, knocking her over.

Needless to say, when Harry offered a hand to help her up, he was pulled down with the ol' "pull harder than they are" trick that he fell for, in Flora's words: _Every... haha... ruddy... haha... time...ha._

**-(.)-**

And that was how Death found them when she went to find Harry ten minutes later, with a worried expression on her face, clutching a cream-and-dark-green letter in her hand. Death loved Harry as if he was her own son, and he was in every way that mattered, but he was stolen. She had to admit it. He wasn't Dumbledore's to give away, and her conscience was acting up terrifically when she had looked down on Lily Potter's reaction when she realised one of her children was missing. The woman's tears were hopeless, helpless. For ten years she had squashed her conscience and told herself that Harry was fine, and always would be in her care, but then, she had gotten the letter.

It was sent by a tawny owl which when Death spoke to it (she spoke every language, even owl) he said he was the Potter's owl and was told to deliver the letter to Mr H Potter. Death said she would make sure he got it and offered the exhausted owl, which had to fly to the Other Land to deliver a letter, a stay in the owlery, which he accepted profusely.

The Hogwarts Shield was on the back of the letter in green ink struck terror into Death's heart, and she wondered what would happen if Harry ever went to the school which was headed by that cowardly- old-lemon-drop-sucking-twinkly-eyed-podgy-idiotic-coot.

_**Mr H Potter**_

_**West Wing of Death's Realm**_

_**The Other World**_

_**The Circle Room**_

Death knew that nobody could possibly know where Harry slept, so the location had to have been written by an enchanted quill, but it didn't let her sleep any better.

It was as if she was being mocked in her dreams, and the mocking voice sounded like that of Lily Potter some nights, sometimes that old coot Dumbledore, and sometime, heartbreakingly so, her Harry's voice - asking why he was forever condemned to the Other World, never seeing a living spirit until the day he died.

He'd go against her decision, she was sure. But he needed to talk to living people, see his mother from afar, talk to her. He'd miss Flora, and Flora would miss him, and they'd both decide in one of their little meetings-under-the-hedge that he hated Death for sending him away, even though he didn't really. She knew this from watching millennia after millennia of human behaviour. It saddened her greatly, and she wondered that if one day she truly would have a child of her own, who's actions she could never predict.

But Harry was good enough. No, Harry was better.

So with a heavy heart she approached to Gardens of Death in which Flora and Harry had played in for the past six years, and came across the sight of two rolling and tumbling eleven year olds. One dead, one alive, both just children who never had a chance. Death paused for a moment, and watched them, savouring the view in her mind.

When was the next time she would see them this happy? When would Harry be completely at ease in her presence once again? _Not for a while_, she told herself, _but it'll be worth it._

'Harry?' her voice sounded strained, even to her. Obviously Harry could hear it, because he stopped rolling and tumbling and laughing immediately.

'Yes?' he answered, a concerned look on his face. She didn't deserve him, Death decided, knowing full well that nobody could ever deserve him.

'Can I talk to you?' she asked, tentatively. In reply, Harry stood up and dusted himself off, and said to Flora he'd be right back. By way of him knowing something Death shouldn't, she mimed kicking something. Probably his a*se.

Death lead him to a stone courtyard and motioned for him to sit down. Harry opened his mouth to say something but Death had already started speaking.

'Harry, you know how you were taken into my care?' Death started hesitantly, hating herself.

'Yeah. It was that old coward Dumbledore giving up a baby's life for twenty more years of his own. You accepted me and took me here, right?' the last word sounded worried, like he was scared he'd got it all wrong.

'Yes,' at this Death saw Harry's shoulders relax slightly 'but I need to talk to you about your mother. What do you know of her?'

'You are my mother.' the simple answer broke Death's heart, but she couldn't show it. _You turned away patron saints and little kids with down's syndrome one last day in the Land of the Living, and you can't tell Harry he has to go there? Pull yourself together woman._

'No, Harry. Your biological mother, who carried you in her womb.' Harry reeled back as if he'd been punched. He looked as if he was a sheep in the headlights with nowhere to go. He opened and closed his mouth several times, obviously unable to think of anything. Finally he managed to answer.

'Umm, well. She was female, right? Umm, and she, ur, had the last name Potter, but I don't know her maiden name. You said once I had inherited her eyes, so she umm had green eyes. I mean, I- I think.' _He knows nothing about his __**real **__mother. Nothing, because of __**you**__. _Said a niggling little voice in the back of Death's mind.

'Harry, that's what this is about. Your mother, your family back in The Land of the Living.' Harry's eyebrows scrunched together like he didn't quite understand, but Death knew he did. Harry understood all too well.

'But, I'm happy here.' another painfully simple answer that ripped Death's heart a little more, _just a little tear, just a little scratch._

'I know, I know. But... it's not fair for you to have to stay in the Realm of the Dead for all of your life, while you are alive and not dead... Harry, what I'm trying to say is that you received an acceptance letter to Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. And I think... that it would be in your best interests to go. Go amongst the living.'

They stayed still, sitting, for almost ten minutes not saying anything. Whenever Death reached out her hand to touch Harry, he batted he away and moved further away.

'Are you saying you don't want me.' Harry's voice was cold, and hard. It wasn't a question, it wasn't a statement, it was more of a challenge. Asking would be too easy, a statement would be making it final, but a challenge was hard enough. He still gave Death a chance to say she made a terrible mistake and yes of course she wanted him and he could stay in The Other World for as long as he wanted, his whole life long if he so wished.

But Harry was just kidding himself. They both knew that, yet neither wanted to say it first.

'Of course I want you. I want to keep you forever. And I will, once you die, but you need to be in the Land of the Living for your life. We'll all still be waiting here, me, Flora, everyone. But, you need to _live _first.'

'I'll go.' he choked out 'but I want you to know that I hate you with every fibre in my body.' and he stalked off , leaving a pale and drawn woman who you would never mistake for the all powerful deity Death in a million years.

_Now it'll be time for a Meeting-Under-the-Bushes, _she thought as the first tear she had spilt in a millennia trekked it's way silently down her cheek.

**-(.)-**

So, just to get a few thing straight, here is the timeline:

**July 31****st**** 1980 - **Charlus and Harry are born, Charlus at 11:56pm and Harry at 11:59pm, even though it is recorded as Midnight on August 1st.

**Halloween 1981 - **Charlus and Harry attacked by Voldemort. Harry is BWL but Charlus gets the credit, and Harry is pronounced dead when Death takes him away to clear Dumbledore's debt. Chapter 1 takes place.

**August 9****th**** 1981 - **Rose Lily Potter is born.

**September 2****nd**** 1985 -** Alec Remus Potter is born.

**July 1****st**** 1991 - **Charlus & Harry receive Hogwarts Letters. Chapters 2 & 3 take place.

**July 5****th**** 1991 - **Harry & Potters go to Diagon Alley. Chapter 4.

**September 1****st**** 1991 - **Charlus and Harry go to Hogwarts. Chapter 5.

Hope that helps! Nothing's set in stone but that's my rough plan. REVIEW! ;)


	4. Chapter 4

**Always Second Best**

Summary: On Halloween ten years ago, Lily and James Potter were away at an Order of the Phoenix meeting, and Voldemort entered their little house in Godric's Hollow with one intention: to kill the Chosen one. But when he fired the killing curse at Harry Potter, he shot back the spell. Dumbledore got to the house before anyone else, and thinking that Charlus, Harry's twin, is the BWL, gives Death payment for letting him live so long in the form of Harry, thinking he is giving her the unimportant twin, when he is giving her the more important one. Ten Years Later, what will happen when both twins go to Hogwarts?

Disclaimer: I can swear to you on my life that my name is not JK Rowling, and I do not own Harry Potter.

I will try and do as little bashing as possible but there WILL be Dumbledore and Ron and James and Charlus bashing. That's all. Honest *crosses fingers behind back*.Neglect but NO abuse.

**Chapter 4**

**Diagon Alley**

Rose Lily Potter was tapping her foot impatiently at the foot of the Potter's household stairs, holding Alec's hand, waiting for Charlus to finish preening himself and grace them with his _oh so superior _presence so they could go to Diagon Alley. In her opinion, they should just leave the prat behind and get his stuff for him.

_Who knows, might teach him not to keep me waiting,_ she thought angrily.

But for the moment Rose just bent down and adjusted Alec's collar for what had to be the twentieth time in half an hour. Alec just had that messy air around him that seemed to make him rumpled in some way or other.

'Coming through!' a stuffy voice said from the top of the stairs, and the Brat-Who-Lived descended down the stairs. The first thought that popped into Rose's head was: _What has he done to his hair?_

Because, after many hairstyle changes of how Charlus wanted to be remembered for his trip to Diagon, he decided that his hair was too messy, so he went into his huge pile of presents and pointless things he owned and found some smelly hair gel, which much to his delight darkened his hair as well as slicked it back, unknowingly making himself look a thousand times worse.

Alec didn't quite have the '_stay silent and laugh in your head_' idea that Rose had, and said out loud 'What ha'pened to your 'air?'

Needless to say Alec was ignored by all except Rose who allowed a small chuckle to escape her lips.

James and Lily quickly walked into the fireplace, followed by Rose, until Alec was the last one to throw some floo powder in the fire, and shout at the top of his voice 'DIAGON ALLEY!'

**-(.)-**

Harry and Flora were walking through Diagon Alley a good distance away from Death, staying true to the pact they had made in the latest meeting-under-the-bushes.

Flora had been allowed to come as long as she didn't touch anyone (because she was a bit like a hologram) and didn't tell any spirits where she'd been when they went back to The Other World. Death decided that it would be only fair to let her come considering her and Harry would be separated for ten months afterwards.

But, Flora seemed to block this particular fact out of her head and was having great fun looking at brooms and owls and goblins, because when she was alive, Flora had been a muggle who hadn't known anything about the magical world.

So Harry was often prone to shout from her such as 'Look at that!' and 'Omigosh, omigosh, omigosh!' and 'How is _that _possible?' that made his ears start to hurt after some time. He wasn't sure how he felt, because there wasn't magic in the Other World, there didn't need to be. But he had known it was here and had never seen the "muggle" world to compare it to like Flora.

When they had gone to Eyelope's Owl Emporium, Harry had purchased a snowy owl who he was having trouble naming. It was between Hedwig, which suited her better, and Fauna, which was the opposite of Flora and would make him feel closer to his friend. In the end he had called a truce just to please Flora to say the owl's name was Hedwig Fauna Potter, for short Hedwig.

Next, they went to Ollivander's Wand Shop.

When they opened the door it creaked horribly and slammed shut the second Harry let go of it. Luckily nobody was around to see Flora pass right through it as it rushed towards her face.

'Hello?' Harry asked into the dark shop, which seemed empty. He shrugged and turned to leave as an old man with scarily shining eyes materialized out of nowhere right in front of him. He had to suppress a shudder, it just wasn't natural.

'Mr... Potter, if I am correct?' said the man, who Harry assumed to be Mr Ollivander, and he nodded confirmation to the old wandmaker's guess.

'Oh no, Mr Potter, I wasn't guessing. I was using Leligemency. You are a natural Occlumens, but you haven't been trained, which is very rare.' seeing the confused look on Harry's face he rushed on saying 'But you wouldn't know what that was, would you? No matter, no matter... just a little trick I like to play on my customers. Anyway you are here for a wand, yes?' Again Harry nodded in confirmation of Ollivander's words.

'Good good...' And they were off. They tried long wands, short wands, thick wands and thin wands. They tried wands made from Yew, Beech, Oak, Mahogany and Chestnut trees. They tried wands with cores of Unicorn Hair, Phoenix Feather and Dragon Heartstring. Apparently they were the wrong mix.

They had been at it for an hour when Ollivander produced _that _wand. Death had complained about the eldest Peverell's wish whenever the subject of wands arose. Her friend Ignotus Peverell still visited sometimes, the youngest brother. The second brother spent all his time with his bride, who he had finally married in the afterlife. The eldest brother had a curse put on him when he died that he was forbidden to ever duel again, which he agreed to reverently. They weren't all that bad, but Death still complained of losing the Elder Wand. The Death Stick. The Wand that could, and would, beat all others.

Harry found himself tongue-tied looking at the wand Death always complained of, because he knew exactly what it was. It's knobbly, thick wood showed it's age and power, the true beauty of it.

'Try this.' Ollivander's wispy voice commanded.

Dumbly, Harry held out his hand to hold the wand; the minute it touched his hand he felt a warm sensation go through his whole being. Every glass case and window in the shop smashed. A small whirlwind went through the shop, and still Harry was hypnotised by the wand. _His _wand.

Flora was... touching him? That brought him out of his stupor, and he jumped round to look at Flora. Who was solid, flesh and blood.

'No way...' she breathed, touching herself all over, making sure she was really _there. _Finally, Flora went for her pulse, and had the shock of her afterlife when she felt it there.

Harry went to touch her, and put his hand over her heart, where he felt a steady heartbeat. Suddenly, his hand gave way and went straight through her, from where her chest had been solid not a second before. Flora was a ghost again.

'Some wand...' said Flora, remembering fondly her recent ten seconds of life. Harry's eyes widened and he spun round to see the state of Ollivander's shop.

'I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to-' Harry's apology was cut short as he saw Ollivander's face.

'Sorry? What an earth would you be sorry for? Albus Dumbledore himself gave me that wand when he won it off Grindelwald, and it didn't work for him! My dear boy, we can expect great things from you!' and Harry felt his arm being shaken so hard his shoulder started hurting.

'Ok then...' Harry said with some unease. 'How much do I owe you?' he asked.

'Money? I could never take money for selling that particular wand! It's, as the muggles say, a freebie!' he squealed going off into his own little world. Harry and Flora exited as quickly as they could after that.

**-(.)-**

Charlus thought, that the Diagon Alley trip had gone very well so far.

When they'd flooed into Diagon there was a huge throng of reporters, photographers and fans waiting at the other side of the floo network, and they hadn't dispersed. He must've signed over one hundred autographs or so, and was photographed with his brilliant hairdo nonstop.

When he went to Flourish and Blotts he made a big show of picking out his books and quills, and when he went to the Owl Emporium he brought a black falcon which he called Slick, after his new hair product just discovered in his piles of things. He didn't know how to take care of it yet, so he loaded it onto Rose.

Then it was time to go to Ollivander's, and James shooed all the reporters away, saying getting your first wand was a very private affair, family only.

When they got there the Potter's saw that Ollivander was standing outside his shop, which was most unusual because he was always, always inside, waiting for new customers.

'Hello Mr Ollivander, why are you outside?' asked James, while approaching the famous wandmaker.

Ollivander turned his head and seemed to notice that the Potter's were there. 'Oh, my most recent customer made a bit of a mess inside, and smashed my window, so I'm just putting it back together.' he stuttered, obviously on a high of some sort.

'Do you need a hand?' Lily asked, and Ollivander nodded gratefully as he finished fixing the window.

When he went inside, all of the Potter's had their mouths open at the pure _mess. _All the wands were scattered everywhere, all over the floor, in nooks and crannies, Charlus swore he could even see a few thin stick-like shapes sticking to the ceiling, but he couldn't be sure because it was so dark.

Luckily, Lily and James were able to clean it up in a minute, so the choosing of the wand was about to begin.

Charlus started, 'What is the most powerful wand you have? That should be able to hold my power... just about.' He was sure that he would be extremely powerful, he was the Boy-Who-Lived after all!

Ollivander made a humming sound. As he went back into the stacks of his shop he called behind him in a joyful voice 'I shall start you on the same level as I start everyone else Mr Potter, hehemeh.' Charlus grumbled but thought better of complaining.

It was actually only the third wand that Charlus tried when red and gold sparks flew out the tip. They spluttered a bit really, but nobody seemed to notice.

'A true Gryffindor this one!' said James in a hearty voice, and ruffled his son's hair.

'Well done my special little boy!' Lily exclaimed, and everybody pretended not to notice how Alec flinched, and Rose put her arm around him comfortingly, shooting death glares at her parents and Charlus, mostly Lily.

'That particular wand is eight inches, mahogany and unicorn hair, bendable.' intoned Ollivander, and only Rose noticed that he seemed extremely disappointed.

**-(.)-**

Harry and Flora were going to Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions while Death went to Flourish and Blotts to pick up Harry's books. Harry had shyly thanked her, and then left when Flora elbowed him (all he felt was a chill up his spine though), and told him to remember that they were still mad at her.

When the door dinged at Madame Malkin's, the Madame in question didn't even turn round until she finished her measuring of a blonde boy on the pedestal who was stretching his arms out. As he exited he sneered in Harry's direction and Harry didn't miss the look of contempt in his face.

Madame Malkin turned round and smiled warmly at Harry and gestured for him to get up on the one of two pedestals. She made small talk with him and Flora and seemed a very nice witch, with an air of likeability about her.

Then the door dinged again, and a boy who looked about eleven strutted in with two parents and younger siblings in tow. He didn't wait for Madame Malkin to turn round, he just went to the spare pedestal and stood up with his nose in the air. Whatever he had in his hair was smelling awfully, as even Flora was wrinkling her nose from the other side of the room.

Flora went to talk to the boy's younger siblings, who looked a bit lost, and rescue them from the idiotic looking parents who seemed to look at Smelly Hair with a kind of hero worship.

'So,' Smelly Hair began 'are you going to Hogwarts too?'

'Yes.' Harry answered, not particularly interested in talking. Smelly Hair didn't seem to get the hint and continued brazenly.

'I want to go into Gryffindor or Ravenclaw, I'd simply _die _if I went into Slytherin or Hufflepuff.' and Harry found himself disliking either Smelly Hair a lot.

'All the houses are good places to go, I wouldn't say you're in any place to judge.' He replied, failing miserably at sounding indifferent.

'How _dare _you speak to me like that! Don't you know _who I am?' _Harry raised his eyebrows, unimpressed.

'Um, sorry, no.' This was evidently the wrong thing to say because the boy started going red in the face. Madame Malkin had to move back to measuring Harry because he was shaking with rage. His parents moved forwards but the boy waved them off.

'I'm Charlus Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived!' Potter... _No effing Way. _God forbid Harry was related to this prick.

'Sorry, don't know what that is. Is it a title or something?' Harry asked, honestly confused now. Wasn't everybody alive?

'I was hit with the Killing Curse when I was a year old! By You-Know-Who and killed him! I saved the wizarding world!' Charlus ranted, steam practically coming out of his ears.

'If you defeated You-Know-Who, can I ask you a question.' A quick, sharp nod showed Charlus gave his consent.

'Why can't you say his name?' and on that note, Madame Malkin let him down off the pedestal and gave him his robes, and while Charlus was still shaking with rage, he upped and walked out, leaving the question ringing in the Brat-Who-Lived's ears.

**-(.)-**

'_Are you sure? _A..._ child _canwield the Elder wand when_ I _cannot?'

'Yes, Albus. He wielded it perfectly.'

'And you cannot tell me who the owner is?'

'Confidential Information, Albus. You know that.'

'Hmm. Thank you Ollivander.'

'G'bye Professor.'

As the old wand maker with the shining eyes departed Dumbledore's office, the elderly headmaster decided he wasn't going to let this powerful young wizard get out of his sight.

He'd find out who it was with a simple wand check of the first years, and then observe the eleven year old and make sure he stayed in his grasp along with the rest of wizarding Britain.

After all, Albus Dumbledore could manipulate anyone.

**-(.)-**

So, just to get a few thing straight, here is the timeline:

**July 31****st**** 1980 - **Charlus and Harry are born, Charlus at 11:56pm and Harry at 11:59pm, even though it is recorded as Midnight on August 1st.

**Halloween 1981 - **Charlus and Harry attacked by Voldemort. Harry is BWL but Charlus gets the credit, and Harry is pronounced dead when Death takes him away to clear Dumbledore's debt. Chapter 1 takes place.

**August 9****th**** 1981 - **Rose Lily Potter is born.

**September 2****nd**** 1985 -** Alec Remus Potter is born.

**July 1****st**** 1991 - **Charlus & Harry receive Hogwarts Letters. Chapters 2 & 3.

**July 5****th**** 1991 - **Harry & Potters go to Diagon Alley. Chapter 4.

**September 1****st**** 1991 - **Charlus and Harry go to Hogwarts. Chapter 5.

Hope that helps! Nothing's set in stone but that's my rough plan for the first five chapters, four of which are gone already! REVIEW! ;)


	5. Chapter 5

**Always Second Best**

Summary: On Halloween ten years ago, Lily and James Potter were away at an Order of the Phoenix meeting, and Voldemort entered their little house in Godric's Hollow with one intention: to kill the Chosen one. But when he fired the killing curse at Harry Potter, he shot back the spell. Dumbledore got to the house before anyone else, and thinking that Charlus, Harry's twin, is the BWL, gives Death payment for letting him live so long in the form of Harry, thinking he is giving her the unimportant twin, when he is giving her the more important one. Ten years later, what will happen when both twins go to Hogwarts?

Disclaimer: I can swear to you on my Granny's life that my name is not JK Rowling, and I do not own Harry Potter. Some descriptions are taken from the Philosopher's/Sorcerer's Stone (depends if you're from the UK or America/Canada/over there...)

I will try and do as little bashing as possible but there WILL be Dumbledore and Ron and Charlus bashing. That's all. Honest *crosses fingers behind back*. Have you noticed I've taken James off? Course you haven't. Neglect but NO abuse.

Descriptions are used from Philosophers Stone, no copyright meant to be infringed. Sorry for using your descriptions JK. I was stumped. Thanks for Reading!

**A/N** MUST **READ** AN! **DRUGS**!** SEX**! A CHILD **DIES **EVERY 5 SECONDS!

Okay, now I have your attention three mistakes I have made in my writing have been pointed out so I apologise in this AN for the bloopers made by my very unreliable brain. It's a tad faulty so I apologise. (again)

1) Flora dies in **1986 **not 1996 as my fingers slipped on the keyboard (about five times, I know) and it was all very annoying, because I didn't notice it when I proof read - which admittedly I rarely do. Does anyone want to be my beta? No? I don't blame you.

2) Rose was (according to me) born in August 1981, but lots of people are asking where she was at the attack, and it is true I am a complete and utter scatter brain and forgot to add her in, so I'm going to pretend she was on a playdate or something... or whatever explanation you can come up with. Imagination!

3) Godric's Hollow is supposed to be in Wales, not London, I just put it in London because that's where I can imagine the Potters living. Not in Wales. Wales is... wet. No offense to any Welsh citizens reading this, but I live in a city (no, it's NOT London) and I like crammed, busy, dry-ish places.

Hope I haven't confused too many people and you continue reading the story! Sorry for all the typos and mistakes!

**Platform 9 and ¾ **

Alec Remus Potter hopped from foot to foot in anticipation. He was going to Hogwarts! Not officially, of course, he was too little for that. But he would go because his Mummy and Daddy were going to be with Charlus.

In normal circumstances, he would've felt a little thump of hurt and disappointment in his chest, when he thought of his parents and Charlus in the same sentence, and the "Special Little Boy" nickname would ring in his ears. But, these weren't normal circumstances. He was going to Hogwarts!

Rose Lily Potter was having mixed feelings.

She knew that the only reason she and Alec were going to Hogwarts was because their parents couldn't leave her and her little brother alone for ten months of the year, and she knew the reason they were starting teaching now was because they couldn't bear to be parted from their precious Charlus for that period of time.

On the other hand, she had always dreamed of going to Hogwarts. She had re read _Hogwarts: A History _by Bathilda Bagshot, their neighbour, at _least _twenty times. She had heard all about the Sorting Hat and the enchanted sky, Dumbledore and all the secret passages. The last she had found out about when she had "borrowed" James's Marauders' Map, which had yet to be returned, and had been packed with the rest of her things.

James Potter was (much like his youngest son) practically jumping for joy at the prospect of going back to Hogwarts Castle, a place he considered his second home and this time he was going to _teach _there, and teach _FLYING _no less. He was absolutely positive that Charlus would be Gryffindor's Seeker before the year was out, ignoring his son's awful flying abilities. In his mind, at least, James Potter was happy.

Lily Potter was frantic.

That was the only word that could possibly fit her current state.

She was packing (frantically) for herself, James and Charlus. James never ever packed because he was simply incapable, like so many men, to do the packing (with or without magic). Charlus, because the Boy Who Lived obviously had _much _more important things to do than packing for Hogwarts. In this occasion, the _extremely _important thing the Brat Who Lived just _had _to do was shouting at house elves.

And Charlus Sirius Potter?

He was feeling smug. Smug, that he was already the most popular first year at Hogwarts and he hadn't even arrived at platform 9 ¾ yet. Smug that everyone would want to be his friend. Smug that his Dad was the Flying Instructor. Smug that he would be the best flier at Hogwarts (he was sure). Smug that both his parents were coming to Hogwarts _just for him. _Smug that his fan club would be in close proximity to their idol, and he would get all the positives of this in the form of a constant crowd around him and offers to do his homework that he couldn't be bothered to do.

It never even crossed his mind that maybe, just _maybe, _something _might _go wrong.

It _would_.

**-(.)-**

"You promise?"

"Yes Flora."

"You really truly promise."

"Yes Flora."

"Swear on pain of never eating chocolate again!"

"Yes Flora."

"Pinky Promise?"

"Yes Flora."

"Cross your heart, hope to die, stick a needle in your eye?"

"Yes Flora."

"Do you absolutely on my afterlife promise?"

Harry rolled his eyes. The idea that he would be leaving the Other World for ten months had just sunk in for Flora that morning, and she hadn't left him alone for _a single second _since.

Well, that was exaggerating a _tad._

She had left him alone while he was going to the toilet.

And now, he was going to Platform 9 and ¾ (in approximately... three minutes) where Flora had herself convinced that he would prefer the living children to _her, _his best friend since he was six years old. Flora was brilliant, fantastic and _the_ best friend anyone could ever wish for in the afterlife where (if you wished) you could be eternally children... forever.

But honestly, she was absolutely _stupid _sometimes.

"Flora-"

"Promise?"

"Flora-"

"You aren't promising!"

"_FLORA!" _Harry bellowed, and she fell silent, staring up at him with big brown eyes that could rival _Shrek's _Puss-in-Boot's. "I will _never ever _forget you or prefer anyone else as long as I live." Flora opened her mouth and then Harry spotted the loophole and quickly added "Or in death either."

Flora grinned and soundlessly jumped on him with a huge hug, crushing him.

"Write to me?"

Harry gave her a crooked smile "Nothing could stop me."

And then Death (or Nicole, as she was going to be masquerading as in the Land of the Living) called for Harry and said it was time to go. Time to leave, for Platform 9 and ¾ and to leave Flora and The Other World and Death and the Old Gentleman who nobody knew the name of, who sighed endlessly (for he had had an extreme wrong done to him, Death had always said) but always smiled at the two children playing in the Garden's of Death and the Circle Room which he and Flora shared and slept in every night in sleeping bags on the floor like the never ending sleepover.

But it was ending, and Harry caught one last glance of his best friend smiling like this was a whole new game, a whole new adventure, a whole new challenge in a never ending web of fun and laughter and childhood games, like the never ending sleepover. For her, that was all it was ever going to be.

Her eyes were sad, and those of a ghosts, he had to remind himself, an ghost's eyes _always _looked sad, but hers, _Flora's, _had never looked like those of a ghost, departed from the Land of the Living. Flora was _Flora, _and she was in no way a ghost. She never would be.

But in that last glance between friends, she looked older and wiser and sadder than the Old Gentleman. She looked torn between happy - sad, and Harry decided that that was enough for him, to remember her as this _older _being, as well as the young girl who he had spent the last five years his constant companion, and above all else, being there.

But Flora was gone, in a flash of light and dizziness and his navel being pulled in a funny direction, as the Portkey whisked him and Death (_Nicole_, his mind told him forcefully) towards the Hogwarts Express, Harry felt detached and alone, missing her already.

**-(.)-**

Platform 9 and ¾ was... mad.

There were children _everywhere._

Under adult's feet, through doors, in groups huddled together across the station, in those absolutely _impossible _places that made gravity look like a myth, and of course in the huge throng of people surrounding the one, the only, the Boy-Who-Unfortunately-Lived.

Charlus was ruffling his hair, smiling with all of his teeth showing and strutting towards the Express pulling his lapdog- oh sorry, _best friend- _Ron Weasley with him.

Lily and James waved to him proudly from the barrier, while Rose and Alec made throwing up motions behind their backs, obviously wishing they were somewhere else. Anywhere else would've sufficed.

Luckily nobody saw this, and Charlus got on the train without any problems apart from him accidently letting slip that "I absolutely _detest _Potions", so the publicity wasn't too bad either.

When Harry entered by Portkey he saw the Platform properly (not just a bunch of people who love you and blind you from the brilliance of where you are), and was struck dumb for a second.

A_ second, _no longer.

There was a scarlet steam engine waiting next to a platform packed with people (in all the weird places as mentioned earlier). A sign overhead on the wall of the barrier said _Hogwarts' Express, eleven o'clock_. Harry looked behind him and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier that most people went through had been, with the words _Platform Nine and Three-Quarters _on it, in italics and special, twisting writing that you would associate with magic.

Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every colour, shape and size wound here and there between their legs along with smaller children that decided to crawl/toddle/run away from their frantic parents who were constantly shouting their names (Harry personally thanked every deity there was he didn't have one of the stupid wizarding names he'd kept hearing. The worst he'd heard so far was 'Romilda!').

Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way (as if they were saying "You think yours is bad? Mine's sent fifty letters to his girlfriend in two days!) over the babble and the scraping of heavy trunks that nobody ever seemed able to carry properly.

The first few carriages were already packed with students, Harry observed, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats (one girl seemed to have a green tint to her skin after not giving up her seat to an older boy). Harry pushed his cart off down the platform in search of an empty seat. He passed a round-faced, brown haired boy who was saying, "Gran, I've lost my toad again." in a small voice. He appeared to be afraid of the woman.

Harry couldn't think why. Not many scary people wore birds on their heads.

"Oh, _Neville_," he heard the old woman sigh, as if she was wondering why he lost a _toad _(of all the pets to bring) just to annoy her.

A boy with short, black dreadlocks was surrounded by a small crowd.

"Give us a look, Lee, go on."

The boy lifted the lid of a box in his arms, and the people around him shrieked and yelled as something inside poked out a long, hairy leg.

_Tarantula._

Harry thought suddenly, remembering the week when he and Flora had had a prank war consisting only of arachnids, and she had set an enlarged one on him.

He definitely knew what a Tarantulas leg looked like, from up close and personal experience. He had won in the end though. A small smirk graced his features without his knowledge.

**-(.)-**

Death smiled looking down at Harry, who had one of those cheeky smiles he wore whenever he was thinking about something he and Flora had done.

Again she wondered why she was telling him to go.

Then she felt his heartbeat along with everyone else's in the cramped yet spacious station and she steeled herself and her petty emotions. Yet Again.

The 5 minute warning whistle blew, and there was a huge surge towards the train, and many hands were waved and smiles thrown (as well as dungbombs) and little siblings sobbing wanting to get on the scarlet train bound of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where they would go one day.

Death took Harry's face in her hands, painfully aware of his blood running warm underneath her cold fingertips, looking into his emerald eyes full of ghosts, mainly a blonde one with brown eyes.

"I love you." it was one of those simple sentences that changed the world. In that moment, it compared to 'I have a dream' and 'Let there be light'. And all this was because it had come from Harry.

"I love you more." she whispered, hardly daring to believe the world rattling around her skull.

"I know."

And then, _then, _he ran with his all too heavy trunk towards the Hogwarts Express, leaving Death grinning as hard as her human face would let her.

And then her face fell.

Now she'd have to comfort the sobbing Flora, who would surely be almost inconsolable by now. Flora and Harry had always been more of a _FloraandHarry, _one thing. Ten months of a moping eleven year old. All Death could think as she waved to the departing scarlet train was:

Damn.


	6. Chapter 6

**The Hogwarts Express**

**Always Second Best**

**Summary:** On Halloween ten years ago, Lily and James Potter were away at an Order of the Phoenix meeting, and Voldemort entered their little house in Godric's Hollow with one intention: to kill the Chosen one. But when he fired the killing curse at Harry Potter, he shot back the spell. Dumbledore got to the house before anyone else, and thinking that Charlus, Harry's twin, is the BWL, gives Death payment for letting him live so long in the form of Harry, thinking he is giving her the unimportant twin, when he is giving her the more important one. Ten years later, what will happen when both twins go to Hogwarts?

**Disclaimer:** Sadly, the lawsuit failed, so I do not own Harry Potter. That extreme honour goes to the amazing JKR. This is my AU version of Philosopher's/Sorcerer's Stone (depends if you're from the UK or America/Canada/over there...) but at the end there is content from the Sorcerer's/Philosopher's Stone because I can't make my graicelles work any harder otherwise my brain will overload. Sorry bout that.

I will try and do as little bashing as possible but there WILL be Dumbledore and Ron and Charlus bashing. That's all. Honest *crosses fingers behind back*. Have you noticed I've taken James off? Course you haven't. Neglect but NO abuse.

…

Harry shoved his trunk onto the scarlet train bound for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and half-walked-half-hopped down the corridor, until he reached an empty compartment and sat down thankfully, nursing his injured foot.

_Damn heavy cases... stupid amount of stuff you need to bring... why so many books..?_

Harry's stewing was interrupted by a tentative knock at the door of the compartment. His head shot up and his green eyes met the sight of three people looking at him through the glass divider.

The tallest was about... 5'5, and he had a round face and kind eyes, and Harry suddenly recognised his as the boy with the woman-with-the-bird-on-her-head... what was his name... ah yes: Neville.

The other two peering at him were girls, but that was all that could be said for similarities.

The first had brown eyes that reminded him of those of a doe, bushy brown hair and bucked teeth. She was clutching a book to her chest and kept on biting her lip repeatedly.

The second girl had curly ultra blonde hair that fell to her waist, wafting around her head moved by some unseen force, as there was no wind inside the train. She had dreamy blue eyes, and seemed not to be so much looking _at _him, but looking _through _him. She radiated a distinct air of dottiness, and her radish earrings didn't help matters.

Harry blinked.

The blonde girl took this as permission to enter, and she floated in happily despite the brunette's hissed whispers of "Don't Luna! Come back!" and the boy, 'Neville', growing a steady shade of beetroot with every step she took.

Seeing no other way to diffuse the situation, Harry gave a small smile and a sharp nod, and the other two came in behind 'Luna', who was now sitting cross-legged next to him, staring happily at the ceiling as if it were the most interesting thing in the carriage.

The silence hadn't yet been broken, and the un-named girl took it upon herself to break it.

"Hello, I'm Hermione Granger. Did you grow up in the magical world? I didn't. I'm a muggle born, but Luna and Neville both did as they're both pure-bloods. I haven't met any other muggle born's yet, but Mum said that it would be interesting to see how many there are in our year, and how many pure-bloods and half-bloods and so on. I couldn't really be bothered though, but it does sound interesting doesn't it?"

She had said all this in (or so it seemed) a single breath and it took Harry a moment to decipher the quick words of Hermione Granger.

"I'm a half-blood, but I grew up in the muggle world, like you. I've never met my real parents. My name's Harry. Harry Potter."

The reaction was instantaneous.

Neville seemed to start choking his breaths turning solid in his wind pipe, causing him to make motions as if he were going to be sick any moment. Hermione's eyes went as wide as saucers, and she appeared to be frozen in place as her book which had been her lifeline only five minutes before tumbled out of her fingers. Luna's gaze had snapped onto Harry, noticeably less dreamy than before, analysing, though she thankfully didn't do anything as dramatic as Neville or Hermione.

Eventually, Neville stopped choking, and Hermione bent down a fraction to pick up her fallen book (_Fantastic Beast and Where to Find Them , by Newt Scamander) _But Luna never stopped staring at him, and if the atmosphere wasn't so tense, he would've made a joke about her mentally undressing him.

"Luna Lovegood" she stuck out her right hand, and he quickly shook it, and then shook her left when she swapped them over quite suddenly .

_Firm Grip, _she mused, and gave him one of her rare, non-dreamy smiles, though he didn't know it.

Neville was still reeling, glancing back at Harry every five seconds, and opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish, making several strangling noises. But, he was much better than he had been before.

His voice still came out strangely high pitched as he spoke, alerting Harry he was anything from fine.

"_P-potter? __**Harry **__Potter?" _

Harry raised his eyebrows, and gave him a 'look of doom' as Flora had so aptly named them. _Flora. _Harry pushed her out of his mind, pushing his blonde haired friend out of his mind.

Neville gulped.

Hermione spoke.

"Nice to meet you Harry Potter." Hermione held out her hand.

Neville still looked wary, and Hermione didn't look exactly comfortable, but they both shook his hand and smiled shyly at him, and the four launched into conversation, where a friendship to last the ages was born.

…

Charlus was having a less than brilliant time.

He (_He!) _had been saddled with them (_Them!)._

By 'them' he meant his younger siblings, who were earning him a migraine.

Rose was reading _Hogwarts: A History _for the billionth time, and suddenly at any time she deemed necessary piped out a fact about Hogwarts that he didn't know, making the Boy-Who-Unfortunately-Lived feel very inferior, but he of course he did not show it (if only he knew she was only doing it to try and impress him).

And _Alec._

_He _was the devil with his little brother's face.

Jumping around and asking questions and rifling through people's stuff and pulling on his robes and looking up at him with those big brown puppy eyes that made Rose melt, and trying to read his course books before he had (if only he knew it was to get a little attention) and failing epically, then to start crying when he couldn't do it.

Why couldn't they just _shut up?_

His friends were perfectly OK with entertaining the little monsters, which annoyed Charlus all the more. Pavarti and Lavender practically doted on Alec, who didn't seem to thrilled at having his cheeks pinched and his hair ruffled (repeatedly) and Rose was becoming fed up with Ron telling her that she was _exactly _like his sister Ginny, who Rose hated with a passion.

When he said a _passion, _he meant a _passion._

According to Ginny, Rose was a stuck up little know it all, only nice to Charlus for his fame, and Rose said that Ginny was a Boy-Who-Lived obsessed fangirl with attitude, a spoiled little brat who made her older siblings feel horrible about themselves as Molly doted on her, and she =had her nose so high up it had doubled over into her arse.

And that was the uncensored part.

Honestly, Charlus agreed whole-heartedly with Rose, and for the first time in his life had been proud of his little sister, though didn't say so. He had pretended to side with Ginny, to salvage his friendship with Ron, and Rose had ran upstairs, crying her seven year old eyes out.

He had felt terrible, a real heartless bastard. And from that day forth, that was exactly how Rose had treated him.

It didn't hurt anymore.

At least he told himself it didn't.

But somewhere inside, Charlus Potter was a good person. A spoiled person, a stuck up person, a _famous _person, but not a bad person.

After all, as another, wiser (but no less manipulative, and heartless) Albus Dumbledore had said in another world: _"It would be enough to turn any boy's head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won't even remember! Can you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?"_

But Charlus couldn't take it.

So he ended up as what he was now, a stuck up, selfish, famous, spoiled person. But not a bad person.

Back to the carriage though, Charlus had such a pounding in his head that he was amazed he could think straight enough to tell his little sister to shut up for a second.

She complied, her eyes filling with tears for a second, before she remembered she hated him. She really did.

Or so she told herself.

Alec had gone silent also, staring at his protector's eyes fill with unshed tears.

He turned to Charlus and forced a expression full of contempt onto his face.

He had decided he _hated _him.

Or so he told himself.

The ride passed in silence after that, making the atmosphere heavy, and the three siblings shift in their seats, as if unconsciously knowing that there was somebody missing.

**...**

The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Alec shivered in the cold night air. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Harry heard a rough voice: "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!"

Slipping and stumbling, they followed the giant man (he was _huge) _ down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Rose thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much, apart from Rose comforting Alec telling him the monster under the bed had not transferred to Hogwarts to scare him for the next eleven years of his life.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," the giant (called Hagrid, one of the pure bloods had supplied) called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud "Oooooh!"

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry, Hermione, Luna and Neville took a boat, and Rose, Alec, Charlus and Ron took another"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then - FORWARD!"

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.

Then they clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.


	7. Chapter 7

**Always Second Best**

**Summary:** On Halloween ten years ago, Lily and James Potter were away at an Order of the Phoenix meeting, and Voldemort entered their little house in Godric's Hollow with one intention: to kill the Chosen one. But when he fired the killing curse at Harry Potter, he shot back the spell. Dumbledore got to the house before anyone else, and thinking that Charlus, Harry's twin, is the BWL, gives Death payment for letting him live so long in the form of Harry, thinking he is giving her the unimportant twin, when he is giving her the more important one. Ten years later, what will happen when both twins go to Hogwarts?

Disclaimer: I can swear to you on my Granny's life that my name is not JK Rowling, and I do not own Harry Potter. Some descriptions are taken from the Philosopher's/Sorcerer's Stone (depends if you're from the UK or America/Canada/over there...)

I will try and do as little bashing as possible but there WILL be Dumbledore and Ron and Charlus bashing. That's all. Honest *crosses fingers behind back*. Have you noticed I've taken James off? Course you haven't. Neglect but NO abuse.

_To Reviewers of Mine: _Luna is now, by popular demand, a year older. Neville is 5'5 because I say he is. Lisa Turpin will soon make an entrance. Enjoy!

PS: If you want a reply, enable PMing. That's all I'm saying.

**The Sorting Hat**

Rose held Alec's hand, and tried desperately not to wince as her little brother's death grip threatened to cut off her blood circulation. She was very aware of the height difference between herself all the other eleven year olds in the room.

Suddenly the tall witch in the emerald robes (Professor... McGonagall?) beckoned to them with a warm smile on her elderly face. Alec scampered to her immediately, and poor Rose was dragged behind him, despite the fact that she was bigger and heavier than her little brother.

As they were led away from the first years and into the Great Hall, Rose couldn't help but gulp under the stares of all the pupils of Hogwarts. She decided in the end to keep on walking normally, but she did hold onto Alec's hand a little harder than usual because her brother seemed to feel the need to go and have an arm wrestling contest with somebody much bigger than him.

Then Dumbledore stood up, and his eyes were twinkling unnaturally brightly in the hall.

"Students of Hogwarts! We are about to have a break in tradition tonight, that shall go down in history as a first at Hogwarts! Alec and Rose Potter," More staring and angry mutterings coming from the table of the snake "will not be sorted. Nor are they the required age of eleven. Alec is a mere six summers old" at this Alec puffed up his chest and stood on his tiptoes, sparking several awws and cooing from the female population. Alec just didn't like being referred to as little in any context, as he was 'a big boy' cause Rose said so. "and Rose has just turned over a decade of life. They shall be sitting at the Gryffindor table as that was their parent's old house until they are sorted when they reach eleven. Thank you all, and let the sorting commence!"

**...**

Charlus gulped.

He wasn't nervous.

At all.

He was the Boy-Who-Lived.

He had defeated You-Know-Who.

He definitely was not petrified by the raggedy old hat on the stool.

When it sang he breathed a little easier (not that breathing had been hard before).

"Bones, Susan!" went in Hufflepuff.

"Boot, Terry!" went into Ravenclaw.

"Brown, Lavender!" was the first new Gryffindor. Charlus smiled wanly at his friend, a lot more worried with his predicament. His stomach was full of butterflies.

_What if he wasn't a Gryffindor?_

_What if he was a Slytherin?_

_What would his parents say?_

_What would Rita Skeeter say?_

Charlus shivered as "Bulstrode, Millicent!" became a Slytherin.

All too soon for Charlus' liking, he heard McGonagall say "Potter, Charlus!" and the entire population of Hogwarts had their eyes on him, whispers darting through the air.

He was sure he appeared confident.

He _was _confident.

He was Charlus Sirius Potter, and he was nor afraid.

At all.

One foot in front of the other (make sure to swagger slightly), swing your arms back and forth, and 3... 2... 1.. smile.

A few sighs reverberated around the Great Hall.

Charlus walked up the steps, his grin faltering slightly as he sat on the stool, and vanishing completely when the ragged old hat fell over his eyes.

_A Potter, eh?_

Charlus jumped slightly, before remembering it was just a hat.

Just the sorting hat that would tell him and the rest of Hogwarts how his life would be led for the next seven years.

_**Yes.**_

_Thought so... let's have a look in your head shall we?_

_**OK... don't look in anything private. Please.**_

_I shall try._

_Loyal, but to the wrong people... Ambitious and cunning to keep your image... not very hardworking, you think knowledge can be obtained from others when you need it... foolhardy, a shimmer of bravery which could turn into more..._

_Children are called spoilt for a reason, for you have been ruined._

_But I am not here to preach you... the only house you would fit into would be... _**"GRYFFINDOR!"**

Charlus let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding and got off the three-legged stool and made towards the table decked in red and gold.

He smiled and grinned and winked and waved at his housemates while shaking hands with them all, knowing he had gotten the loudest applause yet. But even as he sat down the Sorting Hat's words rang in his ears.

_You have been ruined._

But he didn't dwell on this for long, as the next name Minerva McGonagall read out turned his whole world around.

"Potter, Harry!"

**...**

Harry was getting very bored.

He had (of course) spotted his 'parents' at the head table, both of whom were staring at his (god forbid) _brother _with adoration clear in their eyes. Their gazes became even more misty when the hat pronounced the boy wonder "**GRYFFINDOR!**"

He also spotted his other siblings, who both looked to be extremely uncomfortable at the Gryffindor table, even though the red-headed twins were telling them what was sure to be jokes considering how the little boy's face split into a smile. He also noticed how the twins didn't cheer for Charlus, instead sending him frosty looks, which cemented his thoughts that he liked them.

That was also good, because the nice-siblings needed a bit of support, as they seemed like the nicest members of his 'family' so far.

Then the elderly witch looked as if she was going to choke.

His turn then.

Neville was a Gryffindor, as was Hermione, Luna was a Ravenclaw... so one of them would do, but Ravenclaw seemed like the better option as the Brat-Who-Lived wasn't in it.

"Potter, Harry!"

**...**

Minerva smiled kindly at Charlus, the poor boy was obviously terrified. He didn't seem to catch her smile, but Minerva didn't mind, it had happened many times before when the students were looking especially green.

Not many would've seen it, most would've seen what 99% of the Great Hall saw: the Boy-Who-Lived, going to his sorting, confident and grinning.

She saw him for what he was: nervous, scared that he'd be in a house the country didn't want for him.

Of course, she knew he was spoilt. But she couldn't hold it against him.

He didn't know any better, not that that was an excuse for not doing his work and for not being on time for lessons. She'd make sure to be firm.

Now, three... two... one...

"**GRYFFINDOR!**"

Knew it.

Minerva allowed herself a smug smile.

Which was quickly wiped off her face as she read the next name on the register.

He throat seemed to have closed up.

_She couldn't breathe._

He's _dead._

_You went to the funeral._

She shot an apologetic look at Lily an James, who seemed to be the only people in the hall not looking her way.

_Get _on _with it woman._

"Potter, Harry!"

**...**

Neville was jittery.

Terrified.

Petrified.

The dead were walking.

At least one was.

Harry Potter was dead.

Dead.

_Dead._

He had died in the attack in 1981.

Dead.

_Dead._

But he certainly wasn't dead.

He had come to the conclusion that the boy on the train was messing with him, and his real name would be revealed at the sorting.

Then he had compared Harry and James Potter.

They could've been twins, but they weren't.

Charlus and Harry were.

But Harry had Lily Potter's eyes.

_This is bad this is bad this is very very bad..._

He could only wait and hope he was wrong.

He seemed like a really nice guy...

He had shook his hand... (it was solid),

He couldn't be Harry Potter...

"Potter, Harry!"

_Sweet Merlin..._

**...**

Lily was _so _proud.

James was _so _proud.

Their son, in Gryffindor, as they knew he would be.

_He'll be the greatest prankster, _thought James.

_He'll be the best in the year, _thought Lily.

_He'll be an amazing Quidditch player, _though James.

_He'll be a shining example of kindness, _though Lily.

They were too far into be told the perfect person and the perfect son they were imagining didn't exist anywhere in the world, that their was a normal, yet spoilt little boy who needed a proper pair of parents. He wasn't all that funny, or all that clever. He was terrible at Quidditch and was as kind as a mountain lion was to a piece of meat.

But before either of them could come up with any more vomit worthy thoughts about their eldest child, Professor McGonagall read out the next name.

"Potter, Harry!"

**...**

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore felt very pleased with himself indeed.

The boy was in Gryffindor, and from there he'd be able to mould him into the perfect little weapon.

He toasted the boy, and yet he didn't seem to notice.

Ah, well.

Severus saw, and it always seemed to rile him up.

Albus then looked to Minerva for the next sorting name.

He noticed the roll of parchment was trembling in his deputy's fingers.

Odd.

Minerva didn't normally drink.

Then she found her voice and Dumbledore wished bitterly that she hadn't.

"Potter, Harry!"

**...**

Utter Silence.

Everything and everyone was silent, not even a whisper was whispered, their eyes racing over each and every one of the first years, not quite sure what they were looking for.

Harry was actually in the very middle of the squash of first years, safely hidden from view.

Then, there was a clatter, and Lily Potter had fainted dead away, caught by her husband who looked like he was going to be sick if the green hue of his cheeks was anything to go by.

You could practically hear the thoughts of everyone in the Hall; _he's dead, he has to be dead, he died... _You could've cut the tension with a knife.

Harry felt very real, and living in that moment, aware more than ever of the heart pumping soundly in his chest and his pulse going a steady _dum dum dum dum._

He stepped forward.

At the sign of movement the other first years parted around him like the red sea, and every eye was on him, burning thousands of holes in his back.

Harry began walking towards the stool.

_Dead._

_Dead._

_Not dead?_

_Has to be dead._

_But... not dead._

McGonagall looked as if she were going to faint.

Lily Potter _had _fainted.

James Potter was now the colour of old porridge, and looked little better than his wife,

Charlus had his mouth agape and seemed to be suffering from oh-my-effing-merlin-itus.

Neville had gone very pale as if his worst suspicions had been confirmed.

Luna's eyes were sharp on him and a smile was playing on her lips, which made Harry want to go over and hug her.

Hermione was biting her lip again, this time drawing blood. Her eyes shone with the knowledge she knew something before anybody else.

Rose was full out staring at him with green eyes so like his own, analyzing every bit of him like he would disappear.

Dumbledore was... wow. Wow. Harry had had no idea that the human face could contort into a please-don't-kill-me, all-for-the-greater-good, and don't-look-at-me expression all at the same time.

You learn something new every day.

It really was a very impressive feat.

And Alec.

Alec looked like an over excited puppy. Who was desperate to start tap dancing. But his eyes held confusion. Why did Mummy and Daddy and Dumbledore say that you were dead? Because it's very clear that you're not.

Wow-ee. Awkward.

Harry moved forward quickly, and as the ragged old hat fell from McGonagall's limp fingers onto his head the last thing he saw was people leaning forward trying to get a good look at him.

_The Missing Potter. I thought that you were dead?_

_**Obviously so did everybody else**_**.**

_Raised by Death... that is interesting._

_**Just get on with it please.**_

_Brave, yet not foolhardy. And clever... oh so very clever. Loyal to people who have earnt your loyalty, hardworking to reach your goals, Ambitious, but only when playing cards, and cunning only at the rarest of times._

_You could fit anywhere, but Hufflepuff and Slytherin are out the picture, despite your particular talent._

_Do you have a preference?_

_**Ravenclaw please.**_

_Very well, I pity Filius for he shall be beaten at cards, at long last._

"**RAVENCLAW!**"

Harry got off the stool, and sat down at the Ravenclaw table, seemingly oblivious to all the stares.

Luna shuffled up and the two began to talk about Wrackspurts.

The sorting continued, but nobody was really concentrating on it anymore, even the new first years.

There was no clapping or cheering for the sorting of Harry Potter._  
><em>


	8. Chapter 8

**Always Second Best**

**Summary:** On Halloween ten years ago, Lily and James Potter were away at an Order of the Phoenix meeting, and Voldemort entered their little house in Godric's Hollow with one intention: to kill the Chosen one. But when he fired the killing curse at Harry Potter, he shot back the spell. Dumbledore got to the house before anyone else, and thinking that Charlus, Harry's twin, is the BWL, gives Death payment for letting him live so long in the form of Harry, thinking he is giving her the unimportant twin, when he is giving her the more important one. Ten years later, what will happen when both twins go to Hogwarts?

Disclaimer: I can swear to you on my life that my name is not JK Rowling, and I do not own Harry Potter.

I will try and do as little bashing as possible but there WILL be Dumbledore and Ron and Charlus bashing. That's all. Honest *crosses fingers behind back*. Have you noticed I've taken James off? Course you haven't. Nobody reads these things anyway (myself included). Neglect but NO abuse.

Some people have been asking me where Sirius and Remus are, so I tried to add a little background to that, as I don't think Sirius would stand to see Alec and Rose being treated as they are (A bit like the whole 'Pettigrew' incident in canon; he doesn't think first). I think Remus would be just as angry, but he would hold it in, so he could help Alec and Rose more.

Also, I do know that Luna is a year younger than the rest of them, but this is Fanfiction, right? I can do whatever the hell I want. ;)

I apologise for the LONG wait, and you can give the credit of this chapter showing up when it did to Anonymous0786, ihaveasandbox, .Pie and swimgirl99, who basically got me off my lazy butt and ordered me to start writing again - thanks guys! Remember: Reviews = Love!

**...**

**Family is a Fickle Thing**

Dumbledore was wondering where it all went wrong.

He had Charlus in Gryffindor, Lily and James as teachers, even the _younger _insignificant Potters in Hogwarts, as a precaution, naturally, and admittedly, no. He had _not _gotten hold of the wielder of the Elder Wand, but that would've come later, but there was hardly any chance for that now.

Because then... Harry Potter turned up.

How one child could ruin the perfectly constructed plan of the Greatest Wizard in Britain of the era and the world (or so Albus thought) _on his very first day of school _was beyond Albus, but he had a feeling that Death was behind it.

But regardless, Harry Potter had managed it.

Right now, oblivious to Albus' inner monologue, James and Lily were sat on the opposite side of his desk, Lily looking faint, and James looking murderous, his black hair bristling on his head like an enraged cat's.

"You said he was _DEAD!" _James broke the silence with his yell, his fingers gripping the armrests on either side of his chair so hard that if you listened hard enough you could hear bits of wood splintering where his white knuckles were situated.

The silence had become deafening, yes, but that didn't mean in any way that Albus wanted it to end. He would've happily let the silence continue forever than to face this conversation, as he rarely had to face his mistakes (and of those there were quite a few) and he found that he really didn't like doing it. The most scarring one he had had to face was the one where his brother, Aberforth, (he just didn't _understand_) had punched him squarely in the nose at Ariana's (little girl; never looked to him until he cast the curse) funeral, and hadn't stopped until it was broken in nine places.

But, the silence was going to end eventually. Why not now?

"James, let us be reasonable-" Albus tried to speak in a grandfatherly tone, but it was clearly the wrong thing to do, as it just seemed to rile James up further.

"_YOU SAID the body was TOO MANGLED for us, his PARENTS, to see, as it would UPSET US? HOW could we have EVER trusted you on our SON'S life?" _James seemed to be gearing up for a night of shouting and hysterics, when Lily spoke, in such a small voice that Albus strained to hear her at first.

"Y-you said the body was t-too _mang-mangled _for us to se-see. B-but... But..." Lily repeated her husband's words slowly, in a small timid voice that didn't seem to fit the normally fiery woman. But the statement had a hard undercurrent, like a child with a hard maths problem they couldn't quite solve, so they were daring the adult to get it right.

"W-why would yo-you _say _t-that? If he's- if he's _alive?" _Lily was frowning now, confused, unaware of how terrifyingly close she was to scratching the surface of Albus Dumbledore's lies and manipulations.

Albus knew he had to lie. And _quick._

"My dear child, he _was _dead when I saw him on that dreadful night when I saw him last on that dreadful All Hallows Eve, ten years ago."Albus consoled her, patting her back with a wrinkled old hand, while Lily began to sob in earnest.

"Well he _WASN'T _dead _TONIGHT, _now was he, you old _GOAT? _In fact, he looked _VERY MUCH ALIVE _to me!" Dumbledore then realised that James and his temper was his first priority, not the crying woman seated next to him. The man was too angry to be reasoned with at this time, and he had to make sure that his 'white' lie sunk in later as James reviewed the conversation.

But for now, James was nowhere near finished.

"_WHY _did I last see _MY SON _on Halloween, ten years ago, when he's _ALIVE RIGHT NOW? WHY _did nobody other than _YOU _see his _MANGLED DEAD BODY?" _Lily started crying even harder at this, but James continued, seemingly oblivious to his wife's tears. "_WHY _did _YOU _have the authority in that _PARTICULAR SITUATION? ESPECIALLY _when it was _MY SON _who was _DEAD?" _

James took some steadying breaths, and his chest heaved. Unconsciously he had moved forward in his seat until Dumbledore was forced to move backwards away from the irate man.

"Well not this time." James sounded calm, but Albus knew that he was barely holding himself in, anything could trigger the anger, the pain, the pure _hate. _"_You will stay out of this. _You will stay out of this Dumbledore, or so help me God, your nose will be so badly broken that you'll never smell again! _MY SON_ has just _COME BACK FROM THE DEAD_. I have a second chance as a father. _You will stay out of this._"

James had surprised himself. He didn't know that he was capable of that kind of _anger. _That kind of _madness. _That kind of _loss. _He didn't think he would be capable of taking it out on Albus either. But he _was _angry. So _angry _everything and all that dominated his mind were the faces of his family.

Lily (_the redheaded beauty - she had been the only one for him), _Char (_his lion, his survivor, his eldest, his pride), _Rose (_just like her mother, his little girl), _Alec (_who knew people could be so small, so bouncy, so brilliant), _Harry (_if it was him. When he thought of Harry he thought of a baby. He always had. But now it was the Big-Harry, with James' face and Lily's eyes), _Remus (_this was more blurred, but still there)._

And maybe even Sirius' face still lingered, their bond had been so strong, even after all these years, although it was his teenage face, grinning at some practical joke they had pulled, the features changing and meshing together, not quite sure which form to take.

It still hurt to think about his former best friend (_You don't deserve those kids! You're abusing them! Neglect is a form of abuse, whether you like it or not! And at the end of the day, they won't come when you need them-) _James could still hear the shouting (_GET OUT! GET OUT!) _And Sirius yelling as quietly as possible, trying not to wake the kids (_Just because what I'm saying is true? You're many things but I never thought you a coward!) _Lily trying not to hear from the other room (_You know I'm right, somewhere in there! Somewhere in there is my best friend!) _Smashed plates, crockery that they had gone and brought as a joke, before Lily liked it (_But while YOU'RE here, I won't let you hurt your family from the inside out-) _the kids had obviously heard.

_(GET OUT! OUT, OUT, OUT! Stay away from me and my family, STAY AWAY!)_

The door banging shut.

Unconciously, James realised that he was ransacking Dumbledore's office top to bottom.

It felt good.

The door to James' heart flew open.

**...**

Flora was sleeping in the rectangle room.

Apparently it was actually called 'The Sailors Suite' officially, and unofficially called 'The Blue Room', but the room was full to bursting with rectangles and squares and other various quadrilaterals.

The rug was square, and it was a rug made of rags, creating the misshapen image of a boat riding on the stormy seas. If you looked close enough, you could see the tiny sailor's mouths wide open in screams of terror as they were devoured by the sea – and the name of the boat, _The Mary Rose, _written in the top corner of the rug in gold stitches, _Sunk 1545. _

The rug in the circle room (christened so unofficially by Harry and Flora, and the name had stuck so well that nobody could remember the original) was as rotund as the room itself, and patterned on that was a simple white background with thousands (or so it seemed) of names on it, and if you touched one, it showed you a home video, of sorts, of the person's life, and their death. That was the reason why they slept there; Flora's name was on that round rug.

Her and Harry hadn't dared touch it.

_Harry. _

For a bit, Harry had had to wear glasses until his vision was corrected. His glasses had been round, and made of simple black wire, as Harry wasn't a very fancy person who went over the top. They were a bit ugly really, but they seemed to suit Harry, along with leather necklaces, two things that very few people can pull off.

The circle room had suited _them._

But Flora alone in a room full of circles with no ends didn't work, as Harry's single bed had glared with every inch of its inanimate self at her.

Usually, at least once every two nights, Flora crawled half asleep into Harry's bed, usually from a nightmare of some sort, maybe of deaths they had watched, or horror movies that had Flora hiding behind pillows to escape from. It was a ritual of sorts, so that when Harry stirred slightly, he just lifted up his arm and let Flora snuggle into his warmth. Yes, she was too old to be afraid of fictional horror stories (or so Harry teased her) and the dark and the deaths of people that sometimes went peacefully, and _way _too old to be getting into a boy's bed solely for comfort, but Flora couldn't say she honestly cared.

So Flora had run away from the room of glaring, cold inanimate objects, and endless circles, and she had run to Death. The mother she had never had while she was alive, accepting her completely and utterly simply because Harry had liked her and they were going to be _best best friends forever and ever and ever. _And it was Death who had taken her to the Rectangle Room, where _The Mary Rose _was fighting with the waves it could never, and would never beat.

Flora couldn't help the images that came to her mind in this stupid room full of stupid _stupid _rectangles and _stupid, idiotic dead little girls _who are afraid of the dark.

A boy with Harry's hair, and Harry's face, and Harry's grin was talking to girls and boys alike, all without faces (as she knew he would be), with huge heart shapes beating in an exaggerated manner in their chests, and a little ghost girl was there too, seemingly invisible to all while they laughed and joked and played games, and the Not-Harry's eyes flew right over the ghost with big brown orbs and dull blonde hair, and landed on a faceless girl, who he greeted.

Flora had heard of Boggarts. She wondered if there was one lingering on the back of her eyelids.

…

_Dear Flora,_

_I said that I'd write to you, so I am. Writing to you. I mean._

That sounded too awkward. Agggh. But there was no spare paper left. Damnation.

_I've never really had to write a letter to you before. Well, to anyone. But especially to you. Because well, we've always been together._

_I miss you. _

_There. I wrote it. (I can't believe I did.)_

_I hope you miss me too._

_I've met some alright people, and some good guys, and on the train there was one girl called Luna who kept on jabbering on about Nargles, and a really tall guy called Neville who had a toad, and a girl called Hermione who had memorised all her course books._

_None of them are you._

_In fact, none of them compare._

_Wow. This letter is getting really sappy and emotional._

_I'm in Ravenclaw, which is the house of the clever. The smart. The downright awesome._

_I saw my family. The boy in Madame Malkins we saw WAS my brother/twin, and the two parents are, to my endless dismay I assure you, MY parents._

_Even worse luck: they're teachers here!_

_You would've loved everyone's reaction to my sorting though: you could've heard a pin drop, and Lily Potter (I think that's her name – my _mother. _Tell Death she has NO competition at ALL in that department) actually fainted!_

_I did see the younger kids, my younger brother and sister if rumour is to be believed, and they seem alright, as you lot got on fine. At least SOME of my family is decent if your information is correct. I can't for the life of me remember their names though… Alex and… arrgh. I give up. _

_Harry_

Harry looked down at the letter he had just written in disgust. When did he get so… He just sounded… so… _bleurgh._

He shook his head before casting the letter aside next to him on his bed, and dared a look out of the curtains of his blue four poster bed.

Terry Boot.

Kevin Entwhistle.

Anthony Goldstein.

Michael Corner.

His new dorm mates who he would do pretty much _everything _with for the next seven years of his life.

House of the _smart, _the _clever, _the _quick-witted._

_Still _staring blankly at his bed.

It was _extremely _off-putting and disconcerting, and quite frankly, Harry was sick of it.

The moment his curtain twitched and Harry's almond shaped green eye appeared in the crack between hangings, the other boys jumped back in one startled movement.

Harry rolled his eyes and pushed the curtain back entirely.

If the situation hadn't been so tense, Harry would've burst out laughing hysterically at the looks on their faces.

It ranged from terrified to curious, the faces full of shock and disbelief, eyes roaming over his pyjama clad body as if he were meat in a butcher's shop window.

As it was, Harry simply snickered.

This was going to be a _long _night.

**...**

Rose didn't usually pace.

It wasn't something she ever did, except when she was younger (a whole lot younger) and she was trying to mimic Lily and be _just like her. _The thought sickened her.

She had stopped mimicking Lily a very long time ago.

But funnily enough, she was pacing now.

She was also running her fingers through her black hair, tangling it until it looked like it had been professionally back-combed.

This was more James and Alec's thing. It was something that they did unconsciously, making their usual bird's nests look a thousand times worse, and Rose had silently mocked them for it in the privacy of her own mind, before running off to smooth Alec's hair down before he could step out like that in public.

But, funnily enough, she was now running her fingers frantically through her normally manageable, albeit curly, hair.

Rose didn't usually chew her lip.

Charlus did that. Well - he used to, before he realised that he was the all powerful and awesome Boy-Who-Lived who had defeated Voldemort when he was barely a year old, and that he didn't get _nervous _like over human beings, or _scared, _or _shocked, _or absolutely _terrified. _Now he only chewed his lip for the cameras, which wasn't very often. As the 'Boy-Who-Lived' wasn't weak.

As you might've guessed, Rose was now biting her lip with force that Hermione Granger wouldn't be able to match.

In _short_, as I should've told you straight off, not wasting almost 240 words, she looked a right state.

_Harry's alive._

_Harry's __**alive.**_

_Alive. Alive. Alive._

_**Harry. **__**Alive. **__**Harry. **__**Alive. **__**Harry. **__**Alive.**_

The mantra wasn't really helping matters.

Usually, thoughts are dominated almost completely by your subconscious, full of colours, words that string together to make sentences, images, ideas.

Rose Potter was no different.

The _GREEN _Harry's eyes, so like her own, so like her mothers, so like crushed emeralds, so like in the pictures. The _BLACK _of Harry's hair, like the underside of a raven's wing, like her father's. _BLUE _and _BRONZE_, shining proudly, brightly, perfectly, from Harry's school tie (_Ravenclaw; Intelligence, Wit, Creativity, Wisdom, Individuality)._

'_Rosie, me and your daddy need to tell you about someone, You know who this is?' (_They had brought out a picture of two babies)

'Car!'

'_Yes, Rosie, that is Char. What about the other baby?'_

'Car!'

'_No Rosie, that's Harry...'_

McGonagall's lips quivering, painted a startling white by the false moonlight, as they formed the name "Potter, Harry!"

Lily Potter, the second before her eyes rolled up in her head and she fainted, mouthing a single word: "Impossible".

Alec's face as the first years parted, and Harry came into view, before looking for a second back at Rosie, overjoyed, as if to say _You got me Harry back? This is the bestest present ever!_

The picture book, as they all knew that one would eventually come out, depicting that awful night, with moving pictures. The cloaked figure, the two cribs, the flash of green light, the scream. The dead baby, who was paid little attention as the Boy-Who-Lived survived the attack and became great and wise and good, for no reason at all.

The brother's (_brother? Is it really you?) _face disappearing beneath the Sorting Hat, for the briefest of moments, the smallest of seconds, _GREEN _eyes meeting _GREEN._

It was impossible.

Improbable.

Illogical.

'Impossible'

Rose Potter fainted.

**...**

"Who could he possibly have been living with all these years?"

Minerva McGonagall wondered aloud in the packed staffroom, which was missing only three members. It usually only held four teachers maximum at any one time, so it was quite a squash. But instead of talking about Charlus Potter, they were talking about Harry Potter.

Lily and James were missing, doing what, nobody knew. All Albus would say was that they had finished their meeting in his office rather abruptly. Most assumed that they were together, looking for Ravenclaw Tower, so they could break in.

The other missing person was Trelawney, who had been acting strangely ever since the first years had even entered the hall - and Minerva meant stranger than usual.

Muttering was normal, yes, but she had also been scratching circles on the table with her spoon handle, stopping while eating quite suddenly and looking up at something that only she could see, taking her glasses off and staring intently at the Ravenclaw table (BEFORE Harry Potter's name was even read out) and whispering quite urgently to the House Ghosts who usually scared her silly.

And _after _the Welcome Feast was over, she had ran straight back to her tower, while simultaneously pinning her hair up in a loose bun.

The last time Minerva had seen Sybil with her hair down was... well... _never._

But it was almost surely a mood swing of some sort.

Nothing of consequence.

But something in McGonagall's gut told her otherwise.

She ignored it.

"Of course..." He _had _to have been living _somewhere._

Filius stroked his chin thoughtfully, before his old wrinkled face broke into a wide grin that really _did _stretch ear to ear.

"Look at the boy's records! A guardian's signature, name, or _something _must be on there! It's basic information!"

The staff came alive at that moment, swarming like bees to honey towards the school's records. Madame Pomfrey, who was closest at the time, was the first to the magically enlarged chest where all the records of the school were contained. The first years at the top, the seventh years at the bottom. Once a student had left the school, their file was sealed off by something that Slytherin himself had designed, making the only records accessible were the ones of the current students. Each year, the chest expanded itself, and it was said to go down for hundreds of miles, right to the very first student that came to Hogwarts.

The Matron's hand flew forward with her wand clutched tightly. "Accio Harry Potter's file."

Harry Potter's file was read, and Nicole Morteaus was summoned.

**...**

Charlus had been in the bathroom connected to the Gryffindor First Year Boy's Dorms for house.

Days.

Months.

_Years._

It felt like an infinite moment, never to end, the shock and the pain and the jealousy and the confusion, because all he could think of was Professor McGonagall's voice calling out "Potter, Harry!" and his mother fainting (why did _she _get the easy way out?), and his father catching her, and the first years parting, and...

Charlus threw up again.

He hadn't gotten a proper look at the imposter (because Harry, his brother, his twin, his - in a sense - other half, _couldn't _be _alive. _He had died. Charlus had lived. Harry was his _twin. _He would've felt it) but he had heard that the boy had his father's face and hair, his mother's eyes. Just like the pictures.

When did they become mother and father? Earlier he could've sworn they were his mum and dad.

Neville Longbottom's concerned face appeared at the door of the white and gold tiled bathroom. Ron had decided _not _to venture into the room in fear of getting something on his robes, and he wasn't all that good at comforting people.

The tallest first year sat cross-legged next to the Boy-Who-Maybe-Wasn't-The-Only-One-To-Live and seemed to blend into the background, silently watching his housemate. Charlus had almost forgotten he was there.

Almost.

The silence was a nice change (though he would never admit it) from Ron's constant jabber about chess and Quidditch and how much he was underappreciated. Finally, Neville spoke.

"I sat with him on the train."

Charlus didn't register his companion's words for a moment, but when he did, his head spun more, and he dropped his head further down the toilet. He made no reply. Charlus had no idea he had this much in his stomach.

Unfazed, Neville continued.

"He seemed nice enough, and we chatted about Quidditch and stuff. He seemed pretty new to it, I assumed he was muggleborn."

Charlus threw up violently.

"And I reacted almost as bad as you. Almost had a heart attack. I think the only reason I got through the journey was because I thought he was lying, having a laugh, or maybe it was one of those big cosmic coincidences that he was muggleborn with the same name as your brother."

_Yes, _Charlus prayed, _let it be a big cosmic coincidence. _

"Then I saw your parents at the feast, and McGonagall-"

"How did he introduce himself? _The Boy-Who-Lived, _maybe? _The Unknown Saviour? _I bet he thinks he's _so clever, _turning up now-" Charlus had mercifully gotten back his wits and was thinking clearly. The imposter was obviously someone to steal his fame, make his life miserable; well he would show them! He would-

"Harry Potter." Charlus' inner monologue was stopped by Neville's voice, which was a lot colder than it had been just minutes before, and a thousand miles away from kind.

"Just Harry Potter."


	9. Chapter 9

**Always Second Best**

**Summary:** On Halloween ten years ago, Lily and James Potter were away at an Order of the Phoenix meeting, and Voldemort entered their little house in Godric's Hollow with one intention: to kill the Chosen one. But when he fired the killing curse at Harry Potter, he shot back the spell. Dumbledore got to the house before anyone else, and thinking that Charlus, Harry's twin, is the BWL, gives Death payment for letting him live so long in the form of Harry, thinking he is giving her the unimportant twin, when he is giving her the more important one. Ten years later, what will happen when both twins go to Hogwarts?

Disclaimer: I can swear to you on my life that my name is not JK Rowling, and I do not own Harry Potter.

I will try and do as little bashing as possible but there WILL be Dumbledore and Ron and Charlus bashing. That's all. Honest *crosses fingers behind back*. Have you noticed I've taken James off? Course you haven't. Nobody reads these things anyway (myself included). Neglect but NO abuse.

**AN: PLEASE STOP TELLING ME I MADE A MISTAKE WITH WHEN FLORA DIED. I KNOW. YOU CAN ALL REST EASY. **

And if I get ONE MORE REVIEW/PM about it now that I've said it in **TWO ANs**, I will be starting a **nationwide manhunt**. I am not joking.

GOOD NEWS GUYS, BY THE WAY. MY MUSE HAS RETURNED. HOPEFULLY I'LL BE WRITING MORE AGAIN.

**ALSO: I DO NOT KNOW WHEN LiDL WAS ESTABLISHED. TAKING A SHOT IN THE DARK HERE.**

Anyway, I know you've all been looking forward to this chapter - I've been told that people are desperate for this one.

Also, since I last updated, I became a year older. So I feel I should really update more regularly. Probably won't happen, but...

**...**

**Confrontations**

_**Round One: Harry Potter vs. His Parents**_

**...**

James had begun to try and knock the door down.

(**BUT BEFORE YOU READ THE REST, HAVE YOU READ THE AN? YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO. DO IT. NOW.)**

It was a mainly fruitless effort, but it helped him get some of his frustration out. He ignored the knocker. Luckily, his wife didn't.

"James..." It was a whisper from red lips, and it was unsurprising that James didn't hear his wife first time - it was like a storm against a violin. The storm won, tearing the instrument to pieces, until the pieces were being blown about in the air.

But ignore the author's rather brilliant simile, if she does say so herself. Back to the story.

"James? Honey? James!" Lily's voice rose until James detected somebody trying to speak to him. He spun around, half of him hoping to see his son, even though the voice was clearly a woman's, and he felt his heart drop a little when he saw his wife.

"What?" it came out sharper than James intended, and he saw Lily flinch, but he couldn't apologise now. He would apologise later. Now was not the time. There was no time. No time to waste. He needed to see Harry. Talk to Harry. Hold Harry. Say '_God Harry, I'm so sorry."_

Lily pointed a shaking finger towards the door of Ravenclaw tower. James spun, hoping to see Harry again (_you're just going to be disappointed, _the evil little voice cackled in James' head) to be met with the still unopened door. About to lash out at his wife, James almost missed the knocker's mouth opening.

Almost.

"_The beginning of eternity,  
>The end of time and space,<br>The beginning of every end,  
>And the end of every place."<em>

James had to admit it. He was stuck. He was a very clever man, but more with plans, actions, numbers. Riddles, on the other hand... he wasn't so good with. Lily had always liked them.

He spun round, and looked at Lily, waiting for her to give the perfect answer. She began to pace. She ran her fingers though her hair. She bit her lip. She was muttering, strange words and places under her breath. It looked like it would take a while.

Not content to just sit around, James took out of a hidden pocket in his robes a quill and a notebook that he had deemed for 'emergencies' such as getting Char out of trouble, getting _him _out of trouble, and taking down marks and seating plans and study sessions and whatnot. Apparently he would have to cover some of the more academic lessons, so he had to be prepared.

He wrote down the riddle, and stared hard at it.

"_The beginning of eternity," _Could it be the big bang? The creation of magic? For some reason, the word _eternity _stood out, and James mentally took it apart. Maybe there were other meanings? Who knows what it could mean in another language? It would be something really simple, James betted. Something really simple separating him and Harry. So simple it was staring him in the face.

_The beginning of eternity._

It couldn't be that simple, could it? The beginning of the word '_eternity' _was an 'e'.

_The end of time and space._

It still fit. At the end of 'time' and 'space' was the letter 'e' again. It seemed to be adding up, but James was still very sceptical. How could he get it when his genius of a wife couldn't?

_The beginning of every end,_

_The end of every place._

It fit. It made perfect sense. James sprung up from his haunches, and practically ran to the door that was separating him and his son and his _child _and his second miraculous survivor.

"The letter e." James couldn't be sure, but the corners of the beak of the eagle twitched. Was that even _possible? _But James couldn't be sure. Lily had spun around in shock, looking in a right state, before shaking her head and running into the common room behind him.

As they burst in, it seemed like a thousand eyes had turned on them. The room itself was airy and large, the walls lined with books and blue and bronze curtains covering presumably large windows. The carpet was soft underfoot, and a stunning midnight blue to match with the star covered ceiling. A huge marble statue of Rowena Ravenclaw was in the middle of the room. People were lounging on beanbags, armchairs, or just on the floor with books, playing cards and other devices in their hands.

Shame James wasn't really bothered with the interior.

Mutely, as if they were expecting them (which admittedly, they probably were), all the Ravenclaws pointed to the staircase as one. James let out a breathy '_cheers' _and took off for the staircase at a run, Lily hot on his heels.

**...**

Harry released Hedwig into the nights, her bleach white wings a contrast to the ebony night. The snowflake rose, and rose, higher and higher until you could see the sky rip, the tiniest tear, into the Other World flew Hedwig, and then she was gone.

The tear closed.

Harry rested his head against the wall, and opened his mouth slightly; sucking in all the air he could in one great _whoosh_. There was nobody in his room, as his dorm mates had become uncomfortable earlier, and gone down to the common room. So it was just him. Alone. In a room. In a strange place. Where he was dead.

Harry let all the air out.

He lay down on his bed, and pulled the curtains closed around him, as he heard heavy footsteps running up the stairs. Let them gawk at somebody else, minding their own business.

"Harry?!" James Potter's voice carried through the room, and Harry felt his eyes widen. They couldn't find him, he couldn't see them. Not now, not ever. Never. He fought valiantly to calm his breathing but it came out in little gasps that turned to steam in front of him. When had it gotten so cold?

"Harry, please sweetheart, come out!" Lily sounded like a blind woman, and distantly, Harry heard crashing. It was like he was staring down on his own body, curled up in a ball in the centre of his bed, hyperventilating and shaking like a leaf, the whole small section inside his bed shrouded in water vapour, none escaping the thick velvet curtain surrounding him.

What was wrong with him? Distantly, he remembered his lessons in the Other World; if blah and blah and blah happens: _you're having a panic attack._

How did you cure panic?

Harry wasn't sure.

He had no time to think on it further, as the curtains round his bed were pulled back, and James Potter was there. He smelled of pinewood, Harry decided, like brooms and custard. Hands wrapped round him, squeezing the air out of him, and excited shout "Harry! Harry I'm so mumblewumblemumbletumblesumb lebumble" The words were fading, and Harry felt himself fading with them.

Hands holding him, now realising something was wrong, shaking Harry. "_LilyehfbdsIthinkhe'skjifbhuakiwefillmdfn." _With one final burst of energy, Harry lurched backwards out of James' arms. As the man went to approach him, Harry forced out a garbled mess of words before the rush surrounded him completely, and the words and the world with them faded.

"_Don't touch me."_

**...**

_**Round Two: The Hogwarts Professors vs. Death**_

_**...**_

The woman that came out of the fireplace was not what they were expecting.

They were expecting a half mad woman, with an evil grin and child stealing tendencies, but the woman coming out of the fireplace, while brushing soot off her coat, looked decidedly normal.

She had brown hair with some natural blonde streaks running through it, which looked like it had never been cut; it was so long, surpassing the woman's knees. There was a slight curl to it which somehow made her look rather exotic with half her face covered.

Nicole, if that was her name, was an pretty woman, with freckles that ran rampant over her nose, or what they could see of it, and exceptionally long eyelashes framing black eyes that didn't fit in with the rest of her face.

As she was looking down and dusting her black muggle coat, Dumbledore knew that it was all an act. She was here merely as a front, to scope out the castle, the Potters, the souls she would soon be collecting with her scythe that she wielded with ease. Assessing him.

The other Professors looked accommodating enough, although in the split second before the meeting officially began, Dumbledore knew that if her identity, she would not be bothered by the revelation. She was the all-powerful deity Death, he was a headmaster who had gotten in way too deep.

Nicole looked up, and smiled at the staff who were watching her with thinly veiled curiosity and wonder. She thrust out a hand, and grabbed the nearest person's she could find. It was an small, older man, with traces of Goblin Blood in him, she could tell.

"Hi, I'm Nicole Morteaus. Harry's guardian? I've been summoned, haven't I?" Death made sure to play up her naivety and innocence in the ways of the wizarding world. She could already see some of the auras in the room calm, from a turbulent indigo of suspicion to a slightly calmer navy blue of curious.

"Yes, you have." Albus' tone was clipped, precise. He was a coward, and sometimes Nicole couldn't help but think he was more of a monster than Tom Riddle, but he was not stupid. That Grandfather facade would not work with her. If he had even tried it, or any form of '_I've never seen you before in my life, I'll be nice to you' _Death would've been forced to curse the man.

She had been looking forward to that, as well. He just loved to spoil her fun.

"What's the issue?" she grinned, revealing some pearly white teeth that made her look like the cat with the mouse, all bundled up in a mousetrap.

"Do you know... who your ward is?" The little old man asked, noticing Dumbledore's reluctance to talk. _Clever, _Death was sure of it. _Exceptionally so. _He had noticed that she was not all she seemed at first glance.

"I have many wards, Professor...?" Death looked to him, and noticed his aura becoming very restless.

"Flitwick. Head of Ravenclaw, Professor of Charms." the small man replied, his eyes going up and down her body, looking for weapons no doubt.

"Harry Potter. Surely you do not have two Harry Potters in your residence?" The stern animagus (_Cat; _Death could see her form flickering deep inside her when nobody else could) woman let out in a clipped tone.

Death took an instant dislike to the woman.

She was sure she was a good teacher, and a good woman, but she was too blinded by ideals that had been beaten into her by the dear Headmaster many years before, pushing students towards the old coot, unknowingly ruining lives.

The woman reminded her of Health. Health was a deity with whom Death had an extreme problem, with the most perfect, healthy children. Everybody loved Health, simply because of the position the old bat had been given when the world had been divided. Death had always loved Life, and Life had always loved Death, so Life had given Death everything that he made - everything went to her in the end. But she was disliked, unloved. Health had always hated her, because she was able to rob people of their Health, reminding Health that she was no more than an underling.

Her and her companion, Age. She could see everything reflected here, in the stuffy little staffroom at Hogwarts, and it made her weary of the world that would in the end, never change.

And personally, Death thought that Power and Corruption had favoured Dumbledore far too much. They were a lethal team, just as lethal as Death herself. Look at Voldemort, Hitler, Idi Amin, Osama Bin Laden...

But that was just her opinion.

Instead of answering the cat-woman, Death sauntered over to the table in the middle of the room, and sat upon it, and crossed her legs while lacing her hands together in her lap.

"Ah, yes. Harry Potter."

**...**

Professor Charity Burbage had seen many things in her thirty six years of life.

She had seen her father beating her mother, and then always apologising, and her mother always forgiving him.

She had seen the rise and fall of Lord Voldemort, one of the darkest - if not the darkest - wizards ever to live.

She had seen suffering, of little children begging for food, and she had seen ignorance, where people walked right on past, assuming someone else would come along and feed them.

She had seen cruelty, where sons and daughters were abused for simply not thinking the same as the family, and hated and killed for using their minds.

She had seen wordless, boneless, hopeless terror. There were too many stories behind that one.

She had never seen a woman like this.

In fact, Charity wasn't completely certain it _was _a woman.

After the maybe-not-a-woman left, with a sweep of her Rapunzel like hair and a wiggle of fingers, and Charity didn't even have the strength to wonder where she was going, as she hadn't exited through the fire like she had come in, but into the corridor.

Charity pulled out a chair for Flitwick, her mentor, who had done most of the questioning and in return had been played with like he was an interesting toy, and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

She didn't know what she was reassuring him about.

Or even if she was reassuring him.

The hand could have very well been steadying herself, as she felt her legs wobble and threaten to give up on her.

**...**

_**Round Three: Alec Potter vs. the Three Headed Dog**_

**...**

Alec didn't exactly know how he had gotten himself into this situation.

He'd seen Harry (_Harry! He really was having a good day! Harry was back, Harry was home, and it wasn't even his birthday! Maybe for his birthday he'd get to fly on a broom and be better than Char, but that would never happen, so he was happy with Harry)._

Then his Mum and Dad had run away somewhere (_they ran away from a lot, his parents. They ran away from problems and Rose and they always seemed to run to Char. Char couldn't protect them; he wasn't big yet; but neither was Alec so that's probably why they never ran to him. Char was bigger than Rose too, but at times it didn't feel like that)._

Then Rose had started playing Sleeping Lions. No warning at all. She usually warned him. Yes, it was one of his favourite games ever, but NOW WAS NOT THE TIME. He had told her as much, but she stubbornly kept on playing, perfectly still on the heap of soft toys.

She was getting better, Alec had to admit, but she'd never be as good as him.

Alec had very quietly crept out of the room (because Rose might decide to stop playing if she heard him leaving and drag him back and he didn't want that), and gone looking for Harry. Rose would stop playing for _him _surely.

Hogwarts was a bit... funny.

It kept on moving, and the paintings weren't like the ones at home (here they seemed very boring, telling him to go back to bed, when Mick would've asked to be pelted with raisins - he was Mad Mick for a reason) and it kept on making him trip (it wasn't very nice, was Hogwarts, at least not to him).

Eventually, he found a long room that had no paintings in to tell him to go to bed, and no screaming men dressed in tights that pelted him with water balloons (he was beginning to shiver - the cold was setting in).

And there was a big, closed door.

Now, my dear readers, I'm not entirely sure if you remember being six years old. If you do, good on you, your memory is excellent and most likely superior to mine. Because, when six year olds are confronted with a big, closed door they feel the urge - no, the need - to open it and see what's on the other side.

Nobody knows WHY.

They just DO.

So Alec, being six years old, gave the door a push.

It didn't move.

Alec pushed harder.

The door didn't budge.

This vicious cycle had been going on for about ten minutes before Alec remembered something that Rose had taught him, in the hope that he'd actually have a bit of life experience, or at the very least manners, when he grew up.

"_Don't just barge in - it's rude! You have to knock!"_

Alec stood on his tiptoes and knocked.

The door growled.

Alec frowned. His door didn't do that - but this was Hogwarts, after all, and the doors were bound to be a bit different to the ones back home.

"I'm very sorry Mr Door. Could you please let me in? I need to find Harry, you see."

Alec knocked again, but this time, no sooner had his knuckles made contact with the door did they begin to bleed, and scarlet blood ran down the rough wood.

Alec's bottom lip trembled.

He wasn't a crier. But... this was special circumstances.

The door was being mean.

Rose was playing Sleeping Lions.

Harry was... somewhere.

Mum and Dad were running away.

Charlus had disappeared in a crowd of red and gold.

... Charlus.

_Charlus._

_CHARLUS._

If memory served (though Alec didn't think that exact phrase) then Charlus always got everything and all he wanted, simply by doing something...

How?

What was it?

_He cried._

Now, seeing no good reason to keep the hot, salty tears from rolling down his face any longer, Alec let out a sob.

And another.

Fluffy was feeling hostile, but when she heard the distressed cries of the cub, she couldn't resist mentally removing the curses on the door. A few seconds later, a small face and a crack of light appeared.

The door opened fully, and Alec found himself wondering _how had he gotten in this situation? _As the door closed behind him and the world became dark, a wet thing licked his cheek, lapping up his tears.

**...**

_**Round Four: Madame Pomfrey vs. The House of Potter**_

**...**

Poppy Pomfrey prided herself on being the voice of reason in a hysterical atmosphere, or more commonly, the woman with the bandages when you were bleeding so that the young and the older came hobbling to her with various cuts and bruises.

She had stayed calm through the wars of Grindelwald when she had been studying as a nurse, and she had stayed calm after He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's attack on Hogsmeade, when nearly every student third year and up had been injured in some way.

She had been calm when the Weasley Twins had sent a good percentage of the school to her, suffering from various magically induced diseases all at once, after a prank gone wrong.

Her secret?

Her very strong herbal tea, 50% off at LiDL, the muggle branch of worldwide stores that originated in Germany, she thought, which she had happened upon back in the 70's, after a dark night and the yellow sign had glowed at her through the darkness.

How people went through their every day, stress filled lives without it was astonishing.

Sadly, she had temporarily ran out of her supply, so the cup she was nursing at the moment was her last for about 24 hours, as she usually had her monthly delivery sent to Hogwarts, but after getting back from the holidays, had to have it delivered the next day from her house where it was sent in the holidays. Her husband was forwarding it after her tomorrow.

Anyway, nobody got ill on the first night back.

Not with anything serious, anyway (later, she knew it was this thought that jinxed it).

James Potter, also known as Prongs and one of the infamous Marauders who had given her no end of grief when he had been at school, pushed the hospital door open with his back, cradling Harry to his front.

For the second time in this story, James Potter accomplished three things in one moment. And again, these were not all good things. In fact, none of them were.

He slipped on the newly cleaned floor ('BANG! And the Dirt is Gone' being another of Poppy's very worthwhile muggle purchases that she had goaded the house elves into using)

His glasses fell off as he impacted on the ground, making his sight about as good as that of a blind man.

And he dropped the hyper-ventilating, panicking child in his arms onto the newly cleaned floor, whose body was shaking uncontrollably.

With a muffled, distant cry that could have in _no way_ been him, Harry collided with a cold, wet, hard surface that didn't have a heartbeat like James, and wasn't whispering rubbish in his ear. He could hardly clock it though - he could hardly breathe.

_In._

_Out._

That was how he usually breathed - he had never known any other way, but maybe he should've been breathing differently, like he was now, but he hadn't seen anybody else breathing like he was now, but before today and the trip to Diagon, he had never seen anybody breathing before in his memory. Nobody had breathed in the Other World except for him, so he didn't have to copy everyone else's breathing.

_Inoutinoutininoutininoutouti nout-_

That wasn't normal.

He didn't think so, at least.

James was stunned, disorientated, out of it. On instinct, he thrust his hand out for his glasses which were usually on his bedside table, but didn't appear to be there today. He must've knocked them off in the night. Long fingers ghosted over shaking flesh. Shaking flesh that was not his glasses.

_Harry._

Everything came back in a rush, seconds after he had fallen, everything that had happened in the past three/four hours jamming itself into his head.

_Harry._

Jerking upward, James' ears were bombarded by the sound of shattering China (he had lived with his mother for eighteen years - it had happened so many times that he could probably have told you if it was a plate or a teacup if he had concentrated harder on the sound of impact) and the smell of strong, sickly, herbal tea.

"James Potter, what are you doin-" a flash of fiery red blurred itself across James' still not decent vision, and James knew Lily had arrived. "Professors Potter, what is the meaning-" and her sentence stopped, meaning that she had seen Harry and knew exactly what the meaning of their visit was and what they were doing.

A single hand swept across Harry's sweat covered brow, and Poppy's loud gasp alerted anyone on their side of the castle that something was wrong.

Harry James Potter was burning up.

Delirious.

Shaking.

Quaking.

Hyperventilating (Hey! That rhymed! I'm a poet and I didn't even know it!)

In one swoop, with her metaphorical talons out, Poppy scooped up her charge and was soon fussing over him gently, placing him in a nondescript hospital bed, and quickly seeing she could not help him deal with a panic attack considering the circumstances, gave James his glasses, batted Lily's hovering form away from the bed and told them that he'd be in lessons tomorrow, and they could see him then.

When the panic attack had subsided, Harry half heartedly fought Poppy as she dosed him with something foul tasting that made him feel much better, and sent him off to bed.

After that, she made sure she had a secret stash of herbal tea for the first day, hidden in one of the panels in her office.

A better choice she could not have made.

**...**

_**Round Five: Rose Potter vs. Slytherins vs. The Three Headed Dog**_

**...**

When Rose came around, she wasn't expecting Alec to be missing.

She was expecting to see him collapsed next to her, like a limpet, truth be told, curled around he body like he often was, and impossible to struggle out from under from until he was good and ready to move.

Instead, she was groggy, had a pounding head, and the bedroom door was _wide open._

It took her less than ten seconds to realise Alec had gone.

It took her less that then minutes to be searching the hallways, candle in hand and dressing gown on.

"Hey look, it's an ickle Potter!" Rose span round, her candle flickering threateningly as the air rushed past it quickly.

They was a girl and a boy, and they both looked about fifteen, with the right amount of acne, greasy skin and height. On their Hogwarts robes, they both had a green snake emblazoned, signifying they were Slytherins.

"Aww, is baby Potty lost?" the girl snickered, looking out the corner of her eye at the boy for approval.

It seemed that they were definitely teenage adolescents, because the hormones had definitely kicked in there, and he wasn't even handsome, he had squinty eyes and sweaty armpits.

"All alone..." the boy sneered, and began to advance.

Rose turned and ran, footsteps following her seconds later. Her bare feet hit the stone floor, making her shiver even as she fled, black hair whipping round her young face as she searched for an escape route.

_What did she do?_

She ran through the mazelike corridors of Hogwarts as fast as she could, and yet she knew the Slytherins were only playing with her, letting her get away because they were bigger and stronger and trained and they weren't _useless _like her.

"Come out come out, ickle Potter!" one laughed in an almost unhinged voice as Rose ducked inside an open door, breathing shallowly.

"It isn't safe!" the other Slytherin sounded oddly panicked "this is the third floor! I don't want to die here Beauregard".

"You won't," the boy dismissed, tone lofty "and if you're too much of an idiot to believe anything that old coot says, then you're the idiot here. Go on, go back to patrolling."

"Oh..." the girl made a disgruntled sound in her throat but stayed put, her footsteps not going away or voice not fading "fine. But you're going first."

Rose then became aware of hot breath on the back of her neck.

Her hands shook.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

Her heart pounded loud in her ears.

(And, if she'd had anything in her bowels, she probably would've lost it at that second. It was called the 'Fight or Flight' reaction, she remembered, but Rose felt more like fainting, because people did that when they were scared as well, right?)

(She couldn't remember when she was last this scared, because she'd put fear on hold, or so she'd thought - but she was learning a lot about herself tonight)

Rose whimpered.

"Rose?" a small voice asked from behind her, and she turned as slowly as she could, seeing Alec, head resting on the monster's midsection, brown eyes large and blinking.

She squatted slowly, painfully aware of the Slytherins outside jeering and laughing and hissing threats and horrible things about her family (some of which she agreed with, internally, immediately scorning herself) trying to be as quiet as she could so the older Hogwarts students weren't alerted of where they were.

"Alec." she hissed, eyes wide as she took in the three headed dog (Cerberus) her brother was drowsily resting on.

"Hmm?" her younger brother groaned, nestling his head further into the monster's fur.

"_Get off the dog._" she all but snarled, panic overwhelming her pain as one of the heads yawned, revealing two rows of sharp, yellow teeth.

"I don't wanna..." Alec moaned before Rose decided to risk it before reaching one small hand out and attaching it round Alec's twig-like wrist, tugging as hard as she could as successfully bringing Alec to his feet and away from the Cerberus.

"_ROSE!" _Alec shouted in annoyance, and Rose's frantic _shh _motions hadn't paid off as the door opened, and two faces appeared in the crack of light like ghostly silhouettes, grinning sinisterly.

"Look, Erin! Two ickle Potters all alone- Merlin's baggy underpants what is _that?" _the boy broke off, face white and pale as there was a small farting noise (_Fight or Flight)._

The second face disappeared, and footsteps ran away and faded as a voice shouted back at the three people and huge mythical dog "I told you that you were going first! I'm not going to die!"

The boy deliberated, before he too ran, not bothering to close the door behind him, so Rose sprinted out of the open door, tugging Alec along with her as Fluffy shifted in her sleep, hoping that the pup made it back to his pack safely.

**...**

And so, the first night passed.

James and Lily Potter spent it worrying about a son they had not spared a thought about for eleven years, Alec and Rose Potter spent it whispering in the dark about adventures, Harry Potter spent it being cared for in the hospital wing, Charlus Potter spent it stewing about the fact that his brother had stolen his glory, and Death spent the night comforting Flora, who was finally asleep in the rectangle room, whimpering in her sleep.

And then, the first day began.


	10. AN

Hello readers :)

I haven't used this account in a while, and just to make it official, every one of the works on this account if not completed is unfinished and will be abandoned along with the account. If you want to adopt any one of the stories, feel free, just please put that the original idea was mine and however many chapters you are using are mine.

This account will be left as it is, not deleted so you can still look at the stories, and the completed ones that I like will be edited and probably put onto my ao3 account which is: thegirl.

Sorry and thanks for liking, reading, reviewing and commenting on my stories, this website has made me so much more confident in my writing and I have you all to thank for that.

Thanks.


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